


Lord Knows It Would Be the First Time

by Polaris



Series: Let Me Get What I Want [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Dysphoria, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Rocket, Drax’s surprisingly good parenting advice, Dual Genitalia, Father-Son Relationship, Identity Porn, Light Dom/sub, Midlife Crisis, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Other, Past Child Abuse, Vaginal Sex, raccoon sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaris/pseuds/Polaris
Summary: “Ever heard of Virtuality?”Yondu thinks about it. “No, don’t ring any bells. Why? What is it?”“It’s a—” Rocket looks embarrassed. “It’s a virtual reality club, lets you hook up with people over the holonet. Supposed to be as good as the real thing.”





	Lord Knows It Would Be the First Time

The looks Yondu gets when he enters the bar tell him he made a good choice. They’re hungry stares, tracing over his body so heavily he can almost feel them. It makes him shiver, makes him feel sexy, so he swaggers to the bar and leans against it.

He ain’t skint, or he wouldn’t be here, but he ain’t rich either, so he orders himself some cheap shit and raises the glass to his lips while he looks around.

People linger alone or in pairs, sometimes even in threes; women in tight dresses or sleeveless shirts to show off muscular arms, men in suits and uniforms and even, to Yondu’s amusement, one set of green leathers. As if Aleta Ogord would let any man wear her colors. He bites back a laugh at the wannabe Ravager, safe in his own anonymity.

It’s a good looking bar filled with good looking people, and there’s no one here to recognize Yondu Udonta.

—

Recovering from decompression sickness is a bitch. Yondu stares at the ceiling of the medbay and wonders vaguely if he shouldn’t have just died after all.

“Hey, you hungry? Kraglin made soup.”

Then again, he’s never liked seeing Quill cry.

So he forces himself up with a grunt and reaches out for the bowl his boy offers him, nodding his thanks.

It’ll be another month before he can leave the medbay for more than an hour at a time. Even though he managed not to burst any organs on his trip through the void, enough capillaries broke down that he needs oxygen pumped regularly through his bloodstream.

He’d never have made it if not for the rat.

Sentimental little bastard, calling Stakar and the others. But they had the medical personnel to keep his lungs from collapsing, so Yondu figures Rocket can have the credit for keeping him alive. Ironic, since he had to beg the rat to let him die.

He still wonders what he was about to say back there, before the twig spoke up.

Kraglin ain’t gotten any better at cooking since the last time Yondu ate his soup, but he learned a long time ago not to be picky. And besides, Quill’s still watching him with them big eyes.

So he dutifully spoons lukewarm broth into his mouth and swallows it along with the protein lumps, fighting down the urge to gag.

—

“What’re you drinking?”

Yondu turns to size up the man approaching him. He’s fended off a couple already, pretty boys too sweet for what he’s looking for.

This one, though.

He’s big, broad shouldered and taller than Yondu, with a powerful chest and big arms. Xandarian, or pretending to be. Wicked brown eyes meet his when he gets up that far, and the guy grins.

Yondu grins back, shameless about getting caught checking him out. “Nothin’ too good,” he drawls. “Lucky thing I ain’t here for the booze.”

“No,” the guy agrees in a low voice that makes Yondu’s gut tighten. “It’s pretty obvious what you’re here for.”

He tosses his head back, looking up at the guy with a grin curling his mouth. “Issat right?”

The guy takes a step forward, getting up in Yondu’s space, and Yondu’s breath catches at the way he growls. “Loungin’ at the bar in your slutty leather pants with your ass popped out like a goddamn invitation? Baby, you’re lookin’ to get _fucked._ ”

Yondu gulps.

Those brown eyes crinkle a little at the corners when the guy asks, “am I wrong?”

“No,” Yondu whispers, and this one, this one is _perfect._

—

It’s a long hard road back to normal.

He spends his days sleeping, mostly, sucking in rich oxygen and daydreaming while his body puts itself back together. His mind wanders from idyllic musings on how he’s gonna be a better dad to fantasies of getting tied down and fucked.

He can’t jerk off without the heart monitor going crazy, but he knew that already from the time Quill tried it after he got injured when he was thirteen.

Suddenly Yondu feels bad for the kid. The idea don’t seem quite so ridiculous when he’s the one laying here with nothing to do.

Rocket got him a datapad loaded with a bunch of new shit. Apparently this drama is all the rage on Krylor; it keeps putting him to sleep. He wakes up to Quill leaning way over him.

“What th’ hell?” He pushes Quill’s face back. “Get outta my face, boy.”

“Sorry. Your breathing got shallow.”

“Does that when I’m sleepin’. Thought Kraglin told you.”

Kraglin’s been just about the only thing keeping Yondu sane while he recovers. He ain’t comfortable with Quill’s people, so he spends a good chunk of time in medbay with Yondu. If Yondu wasn’t such a selfish prick, he’d tell him to go make friends, but he is, and so he lets Kraglin stay.

After all, Kraglin’s the only one on this ship he trusts with his medical care. No one else needs to know the ins and outs of Yondu’s body, and Kraglin used to be a medic once upon a time.

“He doesn’t say much.” Quill does get out of Yondu’s face, thankfully, and sits his ass in the chair next to the bed. “You’ve gotta be losing your mind in here.”

Yondu smirks. “Let’s just say I get why ya tried t’ jerk it that time when you was out with the leg injury.”

Somehow he’s managed to forget just how funny it is when Quill goes all red. “ _Yondu!_ Shut up! You said you wouldn’t talk about that.”

“Liar. No way am I lettin’ you live that down. Thought you was havin’ a seizure!”

Quill scowls at him, looking for all the stars like a grumpy kitten. Yondu has to resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

Fuck his life, he loves this kid. Loved him damn near since the beginning, since the first time Quill wound his little arms around Yondu’s neck when he picked him up.

Yondu wishes suddenly that he could go back. Slap the shit out of himself and make sure the boy _knew_ he was loved. Play a goddamn game of catch with him instead of smacking him upside the head for talking out of turn. Quill deserved that kind of childhood.

“You okay?” his boy asks him now, and what’s Yondu supposed to say?

“‘M fine,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling and trying to convince himself the stinging in his eyes is just dust.

He doesn’t quite manage it.

—

The guy’s name is Cyfur, and he kisses like a force of nature. A hot tongue parts Yondu’s lips and slips into his mouth. It’s pushy, but Yondu likes it. Just like he likes the way he presses Yondu against the wall with a thick thigh between his.

“What’s your name?” he growls next to Yondu’s ear.

It takes Yondu a second to catch on, and his face goes hot when he realizes what he means. Somehow he hadn’t counted on anyone actually asking for the name he’s going by. Cock_slut011 don’t sound so great upon reflection.

The guy laughs in his face when he mumbles it at him. “Are you serious?” He actually giggles, and Yondu’s about to clock him one before he leans all his weight back into him and purrs, “then I guess I’ll just have to call you my little slut.”

Yondu’s breath leaves him in a rush, and then a demanding mouth is on his again. He opens for it, already desperate because he _needs_ this.

Big hands move over his body, caressing his sides and squeezing his hips before moving around to his ass.

“You like this, baby?” That growly voice in his ear makes Yondu shiver and nod. “Yeah? You gonna let me do some filthy shit to you when I get you back to my room?”

“Yeah,” he croaks, so hard he can barely focus.

A hand suddenly grabs his back of his neck, tightly enough to make him gasp. “Yeah what?”

Yondu stares at him, mouth hanging open. Those brown eyes burn into him, flaying him open.

“Yeah what?” he repeats, slower.

And Yondu shudders. “Yeah, Sir.”

He’s rewarded with a kiss and an absolutely filthy grin. “Good boy.” The hand on his neck doesn’t leave, but it relaxes its grip. A thumb slowly traces up and down, sending shivers through his whole body. “I can tell, you’re gonna be so good for me.”

—

He can’t sleep. It’s after midnight ship’s time, but he’s slept all day and now he’s lying awake with nothing to do. No one to talk to.

And it’s times like this when a man catches himself thinking back on the things he wishes he’d done, the mistakes he’s made, and the chances he should have taken.

They’re poisonous thoughts, the kind he’s having. They threaten to drag him down back to where he was months ago, staring out at the street on Contraxia and wondering how he’d made it this long with no love in his life.

Oh, he knows that ain’t true, strictly speaking. Quill loves him, and so does Kraglin. And hell, Stakar came back for him too, so that means something. But he hasn’t done right by any of them, and they’re never gonna fill that big empty hole inside him.

Quill might, if he can manage not to fuck up this new fragile peace between them. But his track record ain’t so good there, and who knows. Boy left once; Yondu might well drive him off again.

He’ll always have Kraglin. That’s a bigger comfort than he can say. Ol’ Krags has stuck by him through exile and mutiny, and if he was even a little bit interested in guys they might have been more than friends.

Well. He figures they are more than friends. Family, the way Quill’s friends are his family. But there was never any Gamora to Yondu’s Peter.

Hell, he’s only ever fucked bot hookers, and looking back that seems especially pathetic. Sure, he’s scarred and his teeth have always been fucked up, but he knows he was a halfway decent catch back in his prime. He ain’t such a looker anymore though. It’s a damn shame he wasted his hot years.

He gingerly lifts up the blanket and shifts the stupid medical gown out of the way. Once he was strong enough to walk a little, he’d yelled until Kraglin took the catheter out.

And hadn’t that gotten him a dour look and a nice little speech about how stupid it was for him to redact his medical records. Ain’t like it mattered; the doc knew Yondu’s secret.

“Doc’s dead,” Kraglin had said bluntly. “An’ if I weren’t here you mighta died too. Ain’t worth your life, Cap’n.”

Easy for Kraglin to say. Yondu reaches between his legs, back behind his dick, and feels out the lips of his cunt. Hateful thing; it’s been there as long as he can remember. He ain’t sure when exactly he'd figured out the other boys had balls instead of a hole, but he does remember the haunted look on the older girl’s face when she’d told him to hide it.

“ _If they find out you’re half girl, you don’t wanna know what they’d do._ ”

Yondu wrenches his hand away and covers his face.

—

“Wait.”

They’re back in the guy’s bedroom, and Yondu’s been shoved (gleefully, willingly) face down into the mattress. But even though he probably should’ve said something earlier, he really can’t get out of it now.

“What is it, baby?” Hot kisses down the side of his neck make Yondu shiver, although the hand underneath him stops angling for his zipper.

He takes a deep breath. Now or never; he tells himself he can just log out and hide in shame if it goes bad. It’s a cold comfort. “I got a cunt.”

There’s a long silence, and he shuts his eyes tightly as he waits.

“I can feel your dick,” the guy says after a beat.

“Yeah. I got one o’ those too.” Yondu swallows.

He’s not expecting hot breath against his ear. “Holy shit, that’s hot. Makes me wanna see what you got under these fuck-me pants. You wanna show me?”

Yondu can’t quite believe it. “You sure you’re real?” he croaks.

“Oh, I’m real.” The grind of a hard cock against his ass is proof of that, and Yondu wants it inside him so bad he can almost taste it. “You good?” His weight shifts back off of Yondu.

Yondu misses it as soon as it’s gone and rolls over, frowning as the guy peels off his shirt. “It really don’t matter t’ you?” he asks, just to make sure.

“Matter?” The guy raises his eyebrows. “This is like my fucking birthday, gorgeous. I wanna spread your legs and lick you from your ass to the tip of your cock.”

The words land like a bomb and suddenly Yondu’s aware of how wet he is; his cock and his cunt are both throbbing. “Fuck,” he whispers.

The guy (Yondu still can’t think of him using his stupid handle) grins, and his pretty brown eyes dance. “Sounds like you’re into it.”

Yondu nods slowly.

“Take your clothes off.” The order is soft, but there’s no mistaking the steel in his voice.

Yondu swallows and strips off the slinky shirt he’d chosen earlier, feeling hot and exposed. The boots are easy to kick off and leave by the foot of the bed, but he pauses at the zipper on his pants.

He’s never let anyone look at him like this before. Even medical personnel knew better than to risk his temper by trying for more than the most cursory examinations.

“Come on, baby.” This time it’s not an order as much as encouragement. “I’m gonna make you feel so good if you let me.”

Yondu’s eyes fall shut and he unzips his pants. He shoves them down and kicks them to the side, fast like ripping off a bandage. He opens his eyes with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Part of him, deep down, doesn’t believe the guy’s gonna like what he’s got. Or worse, that he’ll like it too much. Yondu still ain’t sure whether he wants to let him touch his cunt, as wet as the thought gets him.

“Look at that gorgeous cock,” the guy whispers. He takes a step forward and tips Yondu’s chin up with a fingertip. “You know the insides of your thighs are all wet?”

Yondu shudders and closes his eyes again.

“That all for me?”

He nods, feeling his face heat up.

“You want me to leave your cunt alone?” The guy’s voice is gentle now. “Should I stop talkin’ about it?”

“Don’t gotta stop talkin’ about it,” Yondu whispers. “I—I dunno if I want you touchin’ it.”

“Look at me, pretty boy.”

Yondu opens his eyes to meet serious brown ones.

The guy strokes Yondu’s chin as he says, “if there’s shit you don’t want me messin’ with, or I run my mouth and say something you don’t like, you tell me, okay? Don’t gotta explain yourself either. I’ll quit it.” He presses a quick kiss to Yondu’s lips. “I won’t touch your pretty cunt unless you beg me to,” he whispers.

Yondu has to kiss him, feeling stupidly grateful to this random stranger for making him feel better about his own body than anyone he’s ever met.

The guy chuckles, running a hand down Yondu’s back until he can cup his ass. “Why don’t you get on the bed?”

—

It ends up being another two months before he’s totally recovered. In that time Quill and his friends have managed to pull off three well-paying jobs, earning enough to stop planetside for leave, which manages to put everyone in a good mood.

Even Rocket, who’s perpetually bitching about something or other.

“By all means, go spend our money on food and booze,” he grumbles. “Ain’t like our engines are old as balls or anything.”

Yondu eyes him. “Thought they just went an’ got new life support systems for you to install.”

“You gonna do anything useful, old man? Or are you just gonna make stupid observations?” Rocket throws him a sour look.

“Mind sharin’ what crawled up your ass an’ died?” asks Yondu conversationally. The rat’s snippy attitude don’t bother him none; it’s just how Rocket is.

“I’m stuck doin’ repairs while everyone else gets to go planetside, that’s what.” Rocket scowls. “Not like I might wanna have fun too or nothing.”

“So go.”

Rocket turns. “I got shit to do.”

“You ain’t got shit that won’t wait another day. You just like feelin’ important.” Yondu smirks down at him. “Go have some fun, Rat. Quill’s got the twig.”

Rocket glares at him, clearly annoyed by his introduction of logic into the proceedings. “And what about you?”

“What about me? I ain’t stickin’ around here while th’ rest o’ y’all go party it up. Might not be able t’ drink but I can still gamble, can’t I?”

Rocket snorts. “Why don’t I trust you not to drink?”

“Guess you better come with t’ keep an eye on me.” Yondu bats his eyes innocently, and it finally gets him a smile.

“Fine,” Rocket relents. “Let’s go.”

—

Having his asshole licked is a revelation.

Yondu never thought of himself as the type to be loud during sex, but the first swipe of a hot tongue over his hole proved him wrong. Now he’s got a fist shoved in his mouth and he’s sobbing around it as the guy slides a long, clever finger inside him. He’s doing something amazing with his tongue, flicking it just around the rim as he slowly starts fucking his finger in and out.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re greedy for it, ain’t you?” Yondu can hear the smirk in the guy’s voice when he pauses to squirt more lube onto his fingers. “Look at you, clenching so tight on my finger. You’re gonna feel real good on my cock, pet.”

Yondu turns his face into the mattress, flushing at how much he likes the dirty nicknames.

His ass gets a sharp smack; not painful, but surprising. “What do you say when I give you a compliment?”

Yondu’s eyes fall shut. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Good boy.” And that tongue is back on him, making him whine and moan and cant his hips up to try to get more.

He is greedy, always has been. It’s his biggest flaw, and he’s _rolling_ in it now. Stupid as it is, there’s something about this guy that gives Yondu a good feeling. He seemed awful sincere when he said he wasn’t gonna do anything Yondu don’t like.

But this? Yeah, Yondu thinks as another big finger breaches him with a perfect stretch, he likes this just fine.

—

They’re walking past a titty bar when Yondu sees Rocket’s face twist up unhappily. He looks over quickly to see what’s got him down, and watches a tall, good looking Rajak fella saunter off with a slinky Aakon. They’ve got their arms around each other, staggering drunkenly and laughing. As Yondu watches, the Rajak leans down to smack a big kiss on the smaller guy’s lips.

Well. He can relate.

“So where’s a good lookin’ rat like you go t’ get laid?” he asks a little too cheerfully.

Rocket gives him a withering look. “Real funny, jackass.”

“Ain’t bein’ funny. Just askin’.”

Rocket’s ears are laying flat against his head, and he scowls when he mutters, “what makes you think I get laid?”

“Hell, if Kraglin can get laid so can you,” says Yondu. He loves Kraglin, but the man don’t wash.

“Kraglin don’t look like an animal.” Rocket looks at the titty bar, where girls are dancing in the windows.

Yondu watches huge tits smoosh appealingly against the glass. “There’s folks who’s into that,” he says.

“Fuckin’ freaks,” is Rocket’s response. He spits on the ground.

Yondu shrugs. “We goin’ in?”

“Nah. Tits ain’t my scene.” Rocket turns away and starts walking.

Yondu follows. “So what, you like other fuzzies?”

“Quit askin’ about my sex life, ya pervert!” Rocket looks annoyed, but Yondu can see straight through that to the brittleness underneath. 

He sighs. “I ain’t tryin’ t’ make ya feel bad, Rat. God knows I ain’t done too much o’ that myself.”

Rocket turns back to him with a narrow glare. “Bullshit,” he snaps.

“Cross m’ heart,” says Yondu. Funny how it don’t bother him, letting Rocket know this sorta shit.

Probably because Rocket ain’t quite cruel enough to use it against him. He’s watching Yondu suspiciously, but he must decide he’s telling the truth because his ears lift a bit off his skull. “No kidding?”

Yondu nods, real casual like it ain’t a big deal. “Bots only.”

Rocket’s eyebrows shoot up. “For real? _You_ only fucked bot hookers? Thought you were as pretty as an angel.” His lip curls a little.

Yondu rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an ass,” he tells Rocket.

“Fine.” Rocket snorts. He’s quiet for a long minute and then he mutters, “you really wanna know?”

Yondu raises his eyebrows.

Rocket sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Ever heard of Virtuality?” he asks quietly.

Yondu thinks about it. “No, don’t ring any bells. Why? What is it?”

“It’s a—” Rocket looks embarrassed. “It’s a virtual reality club, lets you hook up with people over the holonet. Supposed to be as good as the real thing.”

Yondu doesn’t miss the bitterness in his tone, but he doesn’t comment. Not like he knows much about the real thing either. “So how’s that work?”

“When you buy the software, you get a bunch of sensors and access codes so you can make an account.” Rocket scratches his nose awkwardly. “You can make yourself look however you want on there.”

Ah. That explains a whole bunch. “So you got an account?”

“Yeah.” Rocket looks up at him defiantly, like he thinks Yondu’s gonna judge him for being a man with needs.

Yondu snorts. “Sounds pretty smart t’ me. Don’t even gotta go planetside t’ get some action.”

“It ain’t exactly cheap,” says Rocket. “Shit’s pricey to start with an’ there’s a monthly fee to keep out anyone who’s not serious.”

“How much?”

Rocket blinks at him. “Why? You thinkin’ about joining?”

“Why not?” Yondu shrugs. “Easier’n throwin’ down units for drinks.”

“Software package is 200 units,” Rocket says, still peering at him curiously. “Monthly fee is 35.” 

Yondu considers. Not a bad price, and he can see possibilities opening up in front of him like unfurling nebulas.

“Sure,” he says. “Where do I go t’ buy  it?”

— 

Yondu’s a sloppy mess when the guy finally pushes in.

“Fuck yes,” he coos, feeding his dick into Yondu’s ass. “Slippery little slut, there you go. Isn’t that what you wanted, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” Yondu gasps, gripping the sheets as he tries to breathe through the stretch.

He’s so hard he can feel his pulse pounding in his dick, and his thighs tremble as he tries to hold still, to be good and take it.

“I love how fucking wet you are,” the guy whispers as he drapes himself over Yondu’s back, sliding a strong arm around his waist. He begins to thrust, just shallow little movements to ease Yondu into it. It’s more of a tease than anything, and Yondu knows somehow that it’s intentional.

It makes him brace his arms and push back, gasping at the fullness as the guy bottoms out.

“Holy shit,” gasps the guy, and then snarls as he snaps his hips. “If that’s how you want it, you greedy little whore, then I can do that.”

“Yes,” Yondu groans, hanging his head. He remembers just in time for another smack to the ass. “—Sir! Yes, Sir!”

“ _Good._ ” That growl in his ear is too damn sexy, and Yondu goes down onto his elbows, ass in the air. “That’s right, baby, you just take it. Am I makin’ you feel good, pretty boy?”

Yondu nods, a high noise escaping without permission. “Yeah,” he pants. “Feels good, Sir.”

“You feel pretty good too. Real tight. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” A big hand wraps around Yondu’s cock, giving him long, slow strokes from tip to base. He keeps bumping Yondu’s clit with the side of his hand, and Yondu knows he’s not trying to but it sends a rush of heat and shame and a million other things coursing through him; he’s clenching up, close to coming way before he’s ready to.

“W-wait,” he moans helplessly, “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“You gonna come? Already?” The guy sounds delighted. “Fuck, you’re easy for me, ain’t you?”

Yondu moans. “It’s—ya keep hittin’ my—” He can’t say it. His jaw tightens as the guy’s hand bumps it again and makes his whole body jolt.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” the guy whispers, and Yondu can feel his cock twitch inside him. His hand stills. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” Yondu shoves back onto his dick, shuddering a little at the loss of sensation. He’s right on the edge, pulled tight like a bowstring, and he can’t decide if he should stay here forever or go tumbling over.

The guy’s chest brushes his back as he takes a deep breath. “Gonna have to use your words, baby. You want me to keep touching your cock like that?”

Yondu groans, hanging his head. His cunt is throbbing, wetter than he can remember being in ages. “Yeah,” he whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Please. Keep goin’. Sir. Want it. Want it so bad...” He’s babbling, gripping the sheets and begging like a cheap whore.

He’s never been so turned on in his life.

The hand starts moving again, only this time the guy grinds the heel of his hand against Yondu’s pelvis on the downstroke. It hits his clit perfectly, and Yondu can feel his mouth open in a silent scream.

“Like that, baby?” the guy whispers right in his ear, and that’s all it takes for Yondu to come.

—

“So the sensors go right on your temples, like this.” Rocket’s clever little hands fix the two round nodes in place on Yondu’s head.

“Feel like I’m back in the medbay,” Yondu grumbles.

“Yeah, well, just make sure your heart is healthy enough for sex, gramps. I don’t wanna tell Quill his old man died busting a nut.”

“But what a way t’ go,” says Yondu with a waggle of his tongue, and it gets Rocket to laugh.

“Okay, so now you log in.”

Yondu opens the program he’s downloaded onto his datapad and is immediately plunged into a circular dressing room. He looks around, seeing a pinkish humanoid reflection staring back at him from the mirrors.

It’s a weird sensation. Not like there aren’t plenty of blue folks like him throughout Nova territory, but creams and pinks and browns and yellows are the range of skin tones considered prettier in these parts. Yondu never understood it, himself. Spending the better part of thirty years around Taserface would take the appeal out of pinks for anyone.

The figure in the mirror is eerily sexless, a nondescript body clad in a black sleeveless shirt and black pants. The minute Yondu notices this, he also notices the console to the left.

Rocket told him about this; it’s the options menu. Yondu steps up to it and a cheerful disembodied voice asks him for a username.

“Uh,” he says. Not real eloquent.

Well. He’s gotta pick a name. Naturally, the second the damn thing asks him his mind goes blank.

He hems and haws until he finally comes up with something that’s marginally better than ‘Star-Lord’ and calls it good.

_Then_ the fun part comes in; Yondu’s never seen such a comprehensive list of species, genders, body types, and physical features in his life. This must’ve been how Quill felt the first time they took him to one of the more cosmopolitan planets.

Yondu dithers over skin tone; it ain’t that he’s ashamed of his blue skin. Far from it—he wears it like a goddamn badge and makes sure any dumb fuck who calls him a Kree won’t make that mistake twice.

It’s just that blue skin tends to come with expectations, ones he ain’t sure he wants to bring into this place.

He stares at his pinkish reflection and then snarls, furiously turning the dial back to blue.

The fuck’s he thinking, anyway?

From there it’s easier. He picks a slight body type, a shock of dark hair because he’s always wondered what it felt like, and a pair of pretty blue eyes like Kraglin’s.

Clothes ain’t something he gives much thought to; Rocket’s waiting on him to hurry up with this crap, so he grabs the nearest fuck-me pants he can find and shimmies them over his hips. It’s weird how he can feel the cling of the material. With no scars to hide, he cheerfully picks a plain t-shirt that’s tight like Quill wears his. It clings to his newly slim waist and as he does a turn, he realizes his ass looks pretty fantastic.

Boots are the last thing, and then he announces he’s finished. The room goes black for a second before a hallway materializes around him.

“That you, pops?” Rocket’s voice don’t sound that much different on this end of things. Yondu turns to see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He has to do a double take. Rocket’s tall, for one thing, and broad through the shoulders. He’s got a mop of tawny hair and scruff on his face. Aside from the speckled yellowish skin, he could be related to—

“You mean t’ look like Quill?” Yondu asks, just to be obnoxious.

“Did you mean to look like you sell your ass for ten units or less at fueling ports?” Rocket shoots back.

Yondu laughs. “You’d pay ten units for me?”

“Fuck no.” Rocket pushes off the wall, and it’s strange how familiar he is even in a brand new body. He moves the same, somehow.

It’s a little more interesting to watch when he ain’t fuzzy.

“Come on.” He jerks his chin toward the doorway at the end of the hall. “It’s a slow time right now, so it’ll be easier to show you around.”

Yondu follows him gamely, looking around as they step through the door and into a bar that’s a little too classy for his tastes.

“So you always have 500 units in the game at the start of the month,” Rocket explains. “You can order drinks at the bar or take someone to dinner, shit like that. It don’t get you drunk, but your mind thinks you really taste it. Kinda cool. Every month you pay your subscription, the game reloads your account with units.”

Yondu nods slowly. It’s a lot, if he’s gonna be honest. He ain’t used to the idea of rubbing elbows with normal civilized folks who live on planets and work decent jobs. “An’ if you don’t pay your subscription?”

“Kiss your account goodbye. They give you a few warnings and then they freeze it for a year unless you pay.” Rocket leans back against the bar, looking around the mostly empty room. “Here, have a drink. Don’t gotta worry about it messing with your medications in here.” He throws a unit chit down on the bar and the bartender obediently comes over.

“You buyin’ me drinks now, Rat?” asks Yondu with a wide grin. “I might suspect you’re lookin’ t’ take advantage.”

“Keep dreaming, old man. You might look good in here, but I’ve seen your real face.” Rocket grins back, just a little too sharp.

“Fuck you, I’m gorgeous.” Yondu wiggles his eyebrows as the bartender sets his drink down.

Rocket just snorts and picks up his own drink.

—

He expects it to be awkward, after. In the past, he’s always felt sorta hollow after sex, when the bots shut themselves down and he was alone in a room that smelled like jizz. But being with a real person means that the guy wraps big arms around his waist and purrs in his ear about how good it felt.

It’s nice, Yondu decides. He relaxes into the embrace, sighs and stretches and lets the guy pamper him. Why not? Ain’t like he’s gotta worry about his reputation here. After all, the guy just had him begging on his front with his ass in the air. No need to be proud now.

“You on here a lot?” he asks, and immediately winces. Last thing he wants is to look needy.

“Yeah, few times a week,” The guy answers, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Yondu’s head. “We should do this again.”

Something that had tightened up in Yondu’s chest relaxes. “Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Sounds good.”

The guy reaches out to tip Yondu’s chin up. “When are you free?” he asks softly.

Yondu swallows. “Don’t got a lotta plans,” he croaks. It doesn’t sound too sexy, but it’s honest.

“You could,” the guy offers with a crooked smile, and Yondu has to kiss him.

“Guess I could,” he says after he breaks the kiss. He feels wild, shameless and light. “Might need someone t’ keep me in line.”

Those pretty brown eyes go dark, and the guy kisses him again, hard and hungry.

“I can do that,” he says.

—

“So, uh, here’s the room everyone gets to start. You can pay to make the bed bigger and shit. Or get art for the walls.” Rocket scratches his head, shuffling a little.

They’re standing in a nondescript bedroom with a double bed, both awkwardly looking at the swirly patterned bedspread. Rocket hasn’t looked at him since they accidentally made eye contact across the ugly duvet, and Yondu’s whole body is tense with an uncomfortable awareness that Rocket’s _right here_. He ain’t quite sure how he feels about that.

“‘S a lotta pillows,” Yondu offers to break the silence.

“Yeah. Dunno, I guess women like pillows.”

Yondu shrugs. None of the women he knows give a good goddamn about pillows or dresses or none of that stuff. He can see Rocket shift out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway.” Rocket clears his throat.

Yondu gives him a sideways look and decides to put the poor rat outta his misery. Not that flopping on the bed and watching him panic wouldn’t be funny, but he don’t play like that with Rocket. “So there’s places you can go t’ take folks out t’ dinner?”

Rocket looks a little too grateful for the rescue. “Yeah. Wanna go see my favorite one? It’s pretty classy, except for the back hallway. Just stay outta there unless you wanna help out the exhibitionists.”

Yondu’s eyebrows go up. “Well now,” he says mildly. “Do I wanna know how you found that out?”

“Maybe I like to watch,” says Rocket flatly, and it’s enough to break the tension.

Yondu laughs. “Yeah, okay.” He grins. “Let’s go check this place out.”

They end up sitting down for a meal, since there’s no way either of them are actually gonna try to get laid while the other one’s hanging around. When asked, Rocket says he’s doing okay on in-world units.

“But order something cheap, would you?” he adds with a smirk.

Yondu gets the most expensive thing on the menu, just to watch Rocket’s face while the waiter enters his order in.

“I forget what a dick you can be,” mutters Rocket, giving Yondu an evil look over his water glass.

Yondu smiles. “Won’t do bein’ too nice t’ you, Rat. Might start thinkin’ you’re special.”

Rocket rolls his eyes. “Big talk from a dude with only two friends.”

“An’ you’re Mister Popularity,” Yondu shoots back with a grin.

“I got five friends, shut up. That’s more than double your number.”

“How you figure five? Way I see it, you got Quill, Green, Twig, an’ the big guy. Thas’ only four. Thought you could count, boy.”

“You,” says Rocket slowly, like Yondu’s stupid.

Well, shit. Maybe he is. He looks down at the table, intently studying the cutlery—there’s too damn much of it, no one needs three of the same utensil—to avoid looking up and giving away how damn touched he is by Rocket’s casual inclusion.

He’s a goddamn disaster, is what he is.

“Hey.” Rocket’s voice is a little kinder than usual. “I thought you knew.”

When Yondu looks up, Rocket’s looking at him curiously. He ain’t any more comfortable with feelings than Yondu is, but he’s trying.

“I knew,” he says quietly.

“Okay.” Rocket nods, like that’s the end of it. “Well, good. I only perform brain surgeries on people I like.”

Yondu has to chuckle. They really are two of a kind.

—

Yondu doesn’t bother playing coy; the next time he sees the guy sitting at a table, he walks right up and sits on his lap.

The guy freezes, but then relaxes with a slow grin when he realizes he’s got a lapful of Yondu. “Well, hi there. How’s it goin’, pet?”

Yondu slings an arm around his shoulders and plays with the hair behind his ears. “Not so bad,” he drawls. “Found myself a handsome fella I’d like t’ take back t’ my place.”

“Is that right?” The guy’s grinning broadly. “For what, exactly?”

“I reckon you got a few ideas.” Yondu bats his eyes shamelessly. He’s always been good at this part.

The guy eyes him appreciatively. “I do, but I think I wanna hear yours. Ballsy little thing, ploppin’ yourself in my lap like that.” He drops his voice to a husky purr. “I bet you know exactly what you want me to do to you, don’t you?”

Yondu shivers. “I might,” he allows.

“Remember what I said about usin’ your words, baby?” A big hand settles on his thigh, high enough to be distracting. “Good boys ask for what they want.”

It’s a minute before Yondu can speak; the guy’s stroking his thumb back and forth across the inseam of Yondu’s pants, and he can feel the heat of it through the material. “I—”

“What’s that, gorgeous?” Butter wouldn’t melt in this fucker’s mouth.

“Want you t’ fuck me,” he whispers, looking around nervously in spite of himself.

That gets him a chuckle. “I figured, but you’re lookin’ awfully cagey for just wantin’ a fuck. I didn’t think you were such a shy boy. You gonna whisper it in my ear?”

This. This is what gets Yondu going that none of the others have been able to do. This guy knows how to play with his shame without crossing the line, and it’s heady, the rush Yondu gets from it. He feels hot all over, and he knows his face is burning.

The guy smirks at him and taps his ear. “Come on, pretty boy. Tell Daddy what dirty shit you really want.”

Yondu can’t help the little noise he makes at that, and the guy’s whole demeanor shifts like he’s scented prey.

“Come on,” he repeats, and Yondu leans forward.

He mouths at his ear, feeling needy and dirty, and he’s getting hard thanks to the constant back and forth of the guy’s thumb on his thigh. “Want you t’ teach me how t’ suck cock,” he whispers, barely able to believe he forced the words out. “An’ then I want you t’ touch my cunt.” He swallows hard. “Get me wet, Daddy.”

The guy turns his head to catch Yondu’s mouth with his own, kissing him deep and filthy. When he breaks away, he growls, “it’s like you were fucking _made_ for me. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

—

It’s disorienting when he logs out; he doesn’t close his eyes, which is a mistake because the transition from the virtual world back to the real one is too abrupt for his brain to handle. 

“I warned you,” says Rocket as he’s holding his head and trying not to puke.

Yondu moans at him, trying to convey without words how annoyed he is.

It doesn’t put Rocket off like it would Kraglin; he hops up next to Yondu on the bunk and pats his knee. “Just breathe, gramps. It’ll pass in a couple minutes.”

“You fucker,” Yondu hisses when he can talk again, “you said I _might_ get a li’l dizzy.”

“Not my fault you’re such a delicate flower. I didn’t take it this hard.” Rocket’s hand on his knee ain’t so bad. Might actually be nice if he wasn’t trying not to hurl.

Aside from Quill’s occasional, cautious hugs, Yondu don’t get touched too much. Even on the _Eclector,_ where casual touching was the norm and everyone knew that Gef and Half-Nut shared a bunk more than not, Yondu was separate. Being captain meant a lot of things, and staying out of the puppy piles was one of ‘em.

That’s part of why he liked it so much when Quill was small; the kid would sleep in with him, a warm, softly snoring weight against his side. And Yondu could reach out and ruffle his hair if he wanted to, or pet up and down his back, and no one would see him being soft on the kid.

“You gone brain dead or are you just ignorin’ me?” Rocket’s voice jerks him back to the present.

“You was talkin’?” He aims to give Rocket an obnoxious grin, but it falls a little flat given how crappy he feels.

Rocket snorts. “I was sayin’ I can get Kraglin if it’s that bad.”

“No.” Yondu shudders. The last thing he wants is Kraglin’s big sympathetic cow eyes when he explains what happened. Bad enough he has to troll for anonymous online sex, he don’t need anyone finding out he got sick off the transition back to reality.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Rocket doesn’t second guess him, and Yondu’s grateful for it. That’s the benefit of finding someone exactly like you, he figures: they know when to leave shit alone.

“I’m sure.” Yondu sighs and pats Rocket’s little hand. Rocket blinks down at it, so he takes it away. Won’t do to let things get weird; Yondu’s already gotta deal with that from everyone else on this damn ship.

“Close your eyes when you log out,” says Rocket. “It ain’t as disorienting.”

Yondu nods slowly; he’s already feeling better, and the dizziness is back to the oxygen-deprived state that’s been his new normal for the last few months.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and he’s not just talking about the tip.

Rocket raises his eyebrows. “Don’t mention it.”

—

“So you wanna learn to suck cock, huh?” The guy leans against the door and smirks at Yondu. “Thought you might know how, with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Yondu pulls his shirt over his head and drops it, throwing a dark look over his shoulder. “I was mostly fuckin’ women before,” he says. No need to mention they were bots.

“No kidding? You’re full of surprises.” Pretty brown eyes trace eagerly over his back, and no wonder; Yondu ain’t got any ugly scars here, just smooth skin.

Yondu turns around and raises his chin. “You gonna put me on my knees or what?”

A hand snaps out and grabs him by the back of his neck. “You’re gettin’ pretty cocky for a needy little slut, baby,” the guy purrs. “You wanna get spanked, you gotta ask nice for it.”

Fuck, there’s a thought. Yondu shivers, wondering if he’d like it, the humiliation and helplessness of being put over someone’s knee. He thinks he might, on his own terms. “I can make it up t’ you,” he whispers, reaching down to rub the guy’s dick through his pants. It’s a nice handful, and he curls his hand around it, grinding down just a little to watch those eyes flutter closed.

“Knew you were trouble,” the guy mutters, but his hips jerk a little. “Get naked and get on the bed. Legs open.” 

And that has Yondu trembling, still giddy and terrified at the thought of exposing himself like this. He swallows loudly and reaches for his fly.

The guy stops him. “What do you say when I tell you to do shit?” he asks.

Yondu looks at him with wide eyes.

“Well?” The guy raises his eyebrows. 

“Yes, Daddy,” Yondu whispers. 

It gets him a slow grin and a nod. “Good boy,” he says softly. “Now do what I tell you. I want your head hanging off the side of the bed. If you wanna learn how to suck cock, I can teach you how to suck cock.”

Yondu kicks his boots off and shoves his pants down and away before scrambling to get into position. He obediently tilts his head back to look up at the guy.

He’s fully dressed, and looking amused. “Where’s that attitude now, pet?” he asks, stepping closer to stand over Yondu. “You get real nice when you think you’re gonna get what you want.” A hand curls around Yondu’s throat, forcing his head a little further back while another trails down his belly. “You need Daddy to show you what you’re good for. Open your mouth.”

Yondu does.

—

First thing he does after Rocket leaves is log back in. Now that he knows how this whole thing works, it’s time to put his plans into place.

There’s shit he don’t want Rocket knowing about, and the kind of sex he’s looking to have on the holonet is part of that shit.

This time, he’s gonna get what he wants. He takes his time with the avatar, carefully selecting the opposite of himself in every way he can think of. Opts for tall and lanky, but not gangly like Kraglin. Lithe, that’s the word he wants. He picks brown skin, warm where he’s normally a cool blue, and dark eyes. Chooses a slim build, one that’ll be easy to manhandle by a big, strong man. He figured out earlier that a mop of hair like Quill’s doesn’t suit him, so he opts for some that’s short, buzzed close to his skull.

He looks like a Xandarian. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but the point is to disguise himself, so he pushes through. Changes his eye color to a redder brown, just within the normal Xandarian color spectrum. One little detail he’ll let himself keep.

He makes sure to include his cunt.

When he steps back to look over the whole picture, he can’t even recognize himself. He’s staring at a pretty young thing with no scars and warm brown skin, so far from who he really is that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to leave Yondu Udonta—and all his bullshit—behind.

He takes a deep breath, plasters on his most charming smile, and tells the program he’s ready.

—

He’s not so good at sucking cock.

It’s been a long time since Yondu’s been bad at anything (aside from the big stuff, like being a father, or a son, or a captain) and he don’t much like it. The guy had laughed at him when he gagged and scowled, because it ain’t his fault the guy has a big ol’ horse cock. How the hell’s he supposed to swallow that on the first try?

The asshole really don’t need to laugh that hard.

“Oh, don’t pout, baby,” he says, petting Yondu’s cheek. “Nobody gets it the first time.” He bends down to press a kiss to Yondu’s mouth, and Yondu reluctantly parts his lips. His tongue slides in a lot sweeter than his cock did, and it makes Yondu moan a little.

“That’s right,” the guy murmurs, “just relax. I’ll show you how it’s done. You wanna try again?”

Yondu wrinkles his nose, which makes the guy laugh again.

He pets his thumb over Yondu’s lower lip. “You got such a pretty mouth,” he whispers, sliding it inside; Yondu obligingly sucks on it, which makes him smirk. “Yeah, like that. Wanna feel those gorgeous lips on me.” He pushes his thumb in a little further, testing Yondu’s gag reflex.

It comes, just a little, but Yondu likes this. He likes how the guy’s expression sharpens while he watches his mouth, and he likes the wet, filthy noises.

“See, you got it. Wanna try again? I’ll go slow.” Fuck, Yondu has no idea how this guy can be so patient; then again, bot hookers never cared when you just grabbed their faces and fucked ‘em.

“Yeah, we can try again,” he croaks, letting the guy’s thumb pop out of his mouth.

The guy grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock, which hangs out of his open pants. He’s still fully dressed, and that turns Yondu on too. “Open up, baby boy.”

He just gives Yondu the tip, letting Yondu lick and nuzzle at his own pace. It’s surprisingly considerate, and Yondu’s grateful for it.

Yondu closes his eyes and loses himself in the taste and the texture. The taste ain’t pleasant in itself, but it’s primal in a way he likes. Tastes like sex, and when combined with the hitched breaths and the whispers of “good boy” and “so pretty” it makes for a pretty good time. He’s actually pleased with himself when he manages to get more than an inch in his mouth.

Then a hand settles on his cheek, and the guy rocks his hips a little. Yondu breathes through his nose on instinct, eyes flying to the guy’s face as he gags anyway.

The guy eases off. “That’s it, you're doin’ fine, baby. Pretty soon you’re gonna suck Daddy’s cock real nice, aren’t you?”

Yondu whines, feeling spit dripping out of his mouth. It makes him self conscious, but goddamn if the thought of someone else slobbering over his dick isn’t hot. Maybe this guy thinks so too.

He seems to, because he strokes a finger across Yondu’s wet cheek. “Damn, you’re bein’ sloppy. You like that? Wanna be my messy boy?”

Yondu nods, pulling off just enough to whisper “yes Daddy” before leaning toward the head. There’s a bead of salty precum that he’s decided he wants, and he laps it up like a dog, feeling shameless and wild. He even spreads his legs wider, shivering at how wet his inner thighs are.

“Fuck, you’re messy on both ends,” mutters the guy, and that makes Yondu whine. “You want me to touch it, baby? Hm?” He pulls his cock out of Yondu’s mouth, breathing hard. “Use your words, pretty boy. You want me to play with that wet little pussy?”

“ _Fuck._ ” Yondu goes hot all over, from shame or arousal or both; he doesn’t wanna dissect it. The guy is leaning over him, petting a hand over the inside of his thigh. Waiting.

“Bet you taste real good,” he says in a low husky voice.

Yondu _keens_ ; he doesn’t think he’s ever made that sound before. But then, he’s never let himself imagine this either. He wants it, he _wants—_

And it ain’t just his mouth that’s wet anymore; there’s tears running down his cheeks. He heaves a sob and blinks in confusion when the guy rears back like he’s been slapped.

“Whoa, whoa, baby, what the hell?” He takes his hands off Yondu, which Yondu don’t care for at all, and sits down next to him. “Hey, do you, uh, need somethi—”

Yondu cuts him off by grabbing his collar and pulling him down for a hard kiss. Their teeth clack, but he doesn’t care. “Don’t stop,” he gasps out. He might be crying but he’ll be damned if he wants to quit this right now. “ _Keep goin’,_ Daddy, I need it.”

The confession almost breaks him, but it’s freeing, too. Yondu stares up into wide brown eyes and whispers, “ _please._ ”

A gentle hand settles on his cheek, petting him softly. “You know I’ll stop if you tell me to, right?” the guy says softly.

Yondu nods, leaning greedily into the touch. “‘S just a lot,” he confesses in a small voice. “I still want it.”

The guy studies his face, keen in a way that strikes Yondu as vaguely familiar. “So you’re not cryin’ ‘cause you’re unhappy.” He sounds like he’s double checking.

“Not unhappy,” Yondu whispers. He turns into the hand petting him and licks the guy’s palm. “Want you.”

Why is it so much easier to be honest with strangers? Yondu can’t tell his own son he loves him, but begging for sex from some guy on the holonet is doable. It makes him laugh, closing his eyes and leaning into the wet hand on his face.

“What?” This poor fucker. He didn’t sign up for Yondu’s brand of bullshit.

“I was just thinkin’ how weird it is,” he says with a stupid little grin. “Comin’ on here with a new face an’ a dumb name makes it real easy t’ want shit you’d never ask for anywhere else.”

Understanding flashes across the guy’s face, along with something else Yondu can’t place. “Tell me about it,” he agrees wryly. “I can promise you no one wants to fuck me out there.”

“None o’ my friends or nothin’ even knows I got a cunt,” Yondu tells him. He feels absurdly like a kid, sharing secrets under a blanket. He and the other kids did that, he remembers, before they were separated.

“Why?” The guy frowns. “It’s a big galaxy. Not like you’re the only one out there with that setup.”

Yondu shakes his head. “You talk like a spacer. You know how some crews can be, if they find out about that shit.”

The guy stills. “You can tell I’m a spacer?” he asks cautiously.

Yondu shrugs. “Ain’t hard t’ pick up on if you know what t’ listen for. I reckon there’s lots of us on here.”

“You ain’t wrong,” mutters the guy. “And yeah, fine, I seen some crews that would get weird about it. Not too many though. Couple mouthbreathers in particular come to mind.”

Yondu chuckles weakly. “So you know the type.”

“You hidin’ from your crew on here?”

“Nah. I ain’t with them no more.” Yondu nuzzles into the guy’s hand.

He don’t seem inclined to quit petting Yondu. “Good. Shouldn’t have to deal with anyone givin’ you shit about your body.” Something in his face goes hard, and Yondu wonders what his story is exactly.

He won’t ask. Guy can share if he wants to, but Yondu’s never been the type to pry into another man’s business.

“You really don’t think it’s weird?” Yondu asks in a small voice.

“Weird? You mean your cunt?” The guy blinks. “Baby, I’ve been dyin’ to play with it since you told me you had one.”

“Why?” That’s the part Yondu can’t figure out.

The guy blinks again. “They’re fun to play with,” he says with a shrug. “So are dicks, an’ you got both. And honestly, the idea that you’re gonna let me be the first one to touch you there is pretty hot.”

Yondu squirms a little, not sure how he feels about anyone getting off on deflowering him. “I done my share o’ dirty shit, you know,” he feels compelled to point out. “Ain’t like I’m some blushin’ virgin.”

“Ain’t about that,” the guy says softly. “It’s about how sexy it is that you’re actually askin’ for what you want. And you do blush, for the record.”

Yondu can feel his face heat. “Goddammit.”

The guy laughs, tracing a surprisingly tender finger over his cheekbone. “It’s kinda pretty.”

Yondu wrinkles his nose. “Should be. I am pretty.” He pulls the guy down again, kissing him slow. It’s surprisingly easy to shift the mood back toward sexy, with the way the guy’s hand teases down Yondu’s neck.

“So, pretty boy,” the guy whispers against his lips, “you ready to tell Daddy what you want?”

Yondu shivers and looks up into hungry brown eyes and whispers, “lick my cunt, Daddy.”

—

“Hey, Cap’n.”

Yondu looks up at Kraglin’s timid approach, nodding for him to have a seat. He’s been back in his room for a couple weeks now after months in the medbay, and damn if he ain’t still trying to find stuff after someone (he suspects Quill and Gamora) “cleaned” the place to make it more hygienic.

Kraglin perches on the far end of the semicircular couch where Yondu’s got his feet kicked up. He looks around, frowning a little like he knows something’s off but can’t quite place it.

“They cleaned,” Yondu grunts.

“Huh,” is Kraglin’s response.

Yondu raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t say anything else. “You got a reason for comin’ in here, Kraglin?”

Kraglin looks stricken, which in turn makes Yondu feel like shit. His best friend in the whole damn universe, and he still has him cringing away like a kicked dog.

“Just wanted t’ talk to ya,” he mumbles.

Yondu nods, and they sit there in strained silence. He watches Kraglin shift his skinny ass from one cheek to the other, trying to get comfy. An orloni thumps and skitters in the ducts above their heads.

“I don’t wanna rebuild,” Kraglin blurts.  
Yondu’s eyebrows shoot up.

When he doesn’t say anything, Kraglin swallows. His throat bobs nervously. “It ain’t right, formin’ a new crew,” he elaborates. “Not with me as your first mate.”

Ah. Yondu’s been wondering when this was gonna come up. “Seems t’ me you’re the only mate I got left,” he says evenly.

Kraglin’s eyes squeeze shut. “I don’t deserve it,” he whispers. “Cap’n, I betrayed you. I didn’t mean to, but I did, an’ I still don’t know why you forgave me.”

Yondu sighs. “Kraglin, life’s too goddamn short.”

Kraglin blinks at him, head tilting like the twig’s when he’s confused. “What?”

“I said life’s too damn short. Can’t afford t’ hold grudges against the people who’s really on your side.” Yondu gets up; he can’t have this conversation if he’s gotta look at Kraglin’s dumb face. “I ain’t plannin’ on rebuildin’ a crew. If Quill wants t’ let us stay, then I mean t’ stay. See if I can’t do right by my boy for once.” He pauses next to the window and looks out at the stars.

They’re still pretty, for all he knows firsthand how lethal they are.

“If you wanna stick by me, I’d let you,” he says without turning around.

“Of course I’m stayin’ with you.” Kraglin sounds a little weepy, so Yondu keeps looking outside. “You’re all I got left.”

Yondu swallows. He looks up and catches his reflection in the glass, and wonders when he got so old. Old and tired, with regrets dragging behind him like shackles. “I reckon it’s the same for me,” he says roughly.

It’s a long while before Kraglin can speak. “So we’re stayin’ with Pete, then.”

“As long as he lets us,” Yondu says.

Kraglin’s reflection appears next to his own; Yondu’s known him for damn near thirty years, and he never could hear him move. “He loves you,” Kraglin says softly, avoiding eye contact. “You wasn’t awake when we pulled ya in, you didn't hear him screamin’.”

Yondu shuts his eyes. “‘S easy t’ love someone who’s dyin’. Wantin’ ‘em t’ stick around is a little different.”

“You don’t really wanna be cap’n no more, do you?” Kraglin’s always been too perceptive for his own good.

Yondu gives him an annoyed look. “That a problem?” he snaps.

“You oughta do what ya think is right,” says Kraglin sincerely. “It didn’t seem t’ make ya happy, at the end.”

Yondu sighs. “You ain’t wrong.” It’s as close as he can get to acknowledging how crushingly lonely he’d been in those last months.

He’s still fucking lonely, and his oldest, most loyal friend is right here. They’re standing right next to each other, and Kraglin still seems as distant as the stars they’re watching.

—

Yondu’s fucking a sadistic genius. He twists his hands into the covers and tries to remember that he asked for this. Begged, even. Thought it was so hot when the guy told him to pick a number, and when Yondu mumbled one, told him that was how many times he’d have to come before he could get fucked.

That was four orgasms ago, and now Yondu’s sobbing around the fingers he’s stuck in his mouth while the guy’s tongue does wicked things to his clit. He’s relentless, alternating between suction and little kitten licks that make Yondu’s legs shake, and Yondu’s an exhausted, sloppy mess but he can feel another orgasm building. He bites down on his fingers when the guy slurps over his clit, and then he’s gone again.

“F-five,” he moans weakly once he can speak, weak with relief. He made it.

The guy lifts his face (and _fuck_ , his mouth shines under the lights, soaked with Yondu’s slick) and grins. “You did great, baby. So good for Daddy. Look how messy you are.” He slips a finger into Yondu’s cunt, smirking at the way it makes Yondu moan. “So wet for me, pretty boy. You want me to fuck this messy pussy?”

Yondu gulps.

“What do you say when I ask you a question?” He pulls his finger out, and smirks when Yondu sways his hips after it.

“Yes, Daddy,” he whines. “Fuck me, please. Please, I want you to.”

“I know you do.” There’s a flash of something shockingly familiar in those brown eyes, but Yondu gives up trying to place it when the finger returns with a friend, stretching his cunt open with a filthy squelching sound. “Such a needy boy. You wanna be good for Daddy, baby? Wanna be my sweet little fucktoy?”

There ain’t a soul who’d survive talking to Yondu Udonta like that out in the real world, but here it just gets the guy an eager nod and a breathless “please Daddy” instead of the arrow between the eyes that part of Yondu still feels this deserves. Don’t matter that he loves it, letting himself have it is always gonna feel a little wrong.

It’s the wrongness that makes it so good, he thinks when the guy slides into his cunt. The stretch makes him gasp, clawing at the guy’s back even as he locks his legs around him to keep him inside.

“Your fucking _face,_ ” the guy breathes, pulling back to look Yondu in the eye with a gratifyingly awed expression. “You look like you just found god.”

“ _Fuck gods,_ ” Yondu snarls, digging his heels into the guy’s ass.

That makes the guy giggle for whatever reason, tucking his face into Yondu’s neck and rolling his hips. “Yeah,” he whispers as Yondu moans, “fuck gods.”

—

Quill’s humming is starting to get on his nerves. A few months ago he’d have been happy to hear it, but now it’s just grating on his brain the way Quill hums the same bar of “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” over and over and over again.

Yondu reaches for a bolt to throw and then stops himself. “Quill,” he grits out, “can you _please_ shut the hell up?”

Quill looks over with wide wounded eyes. “Oh. Uh, sure. Sorry.” He ducks back under the console he was tinkering with and goes quiet.

Yondu feels like a dick. He stares at Quill’s legs, the only part of him that ain’t stuck up under the console, and wonders what a good dad would say. In the past a gentle smack was usually how Yondu stopped Quill from being irritating. It’s how he learned; Yondu figured out way too late that in the civilized galaxy you weren’t supposed to hit your kids at all.

The little cuffs upside the head Yondu grew up with always made the kid cry, until he realized crying got him a harder backhand. Then he just got mad and screamed back in Yondu’s face. They’d had their share of brawls, him and Quill, and in the moments when he wasn’t trying to keep himself from wringing the little asshole’s neck, he was damn proud of the boy’s spirit.

He’d picked himself up a little fighter, that had been clear from the start.

Which is why he’s not sure what to do with Quill’s new habit of walking on eggshells.

“What th’ hell you so quiet for?” he snaps, annoyed into goading the kid.

Quill goes still for a second and then wiggles out from under the console with narrowed eyes. “You _just_ told me to shut up.”

Fuck. That’s right. Yondu grunts. “I meant quit th’ damn humming. Hell, you act like I kicked your puppy.”

There’s a second where Quill bristles and Yondu thinks things are gonna go back to normal, but then he sighs. His shoulders slump, and he mutters, “I really don’t wanna do this with you right now.”

He gets to his feet while Yondu’s mouth is still hanging open in shock. As he’s packing up his tools, he gives Yondu a disappointed look. “You said you know you didn’t do any of it right, so just...maybe try a different approach, huh?”

And he leaves Yondu sitting there, stricken.

“You love him, but you don’t know how to talk to him.” Drax’s voice makes him jump; it’s like having a bigger Kraglin around, the way he creeps.

“Gonna put a bell on you,” Yondu mutters resentfully. “The hell you doin’ skulkin’ around anyway?”

“I overheard what Quill said to you.” Drax ignores his question; Drax seems to ignore a lot of shit he don’t wanna hear. “What I think he fails to understand is how disadvantaged you are.”

Yondu narrows his eyes. “What exactly is that s’posed to mean?” he asks sweetly. It’s a warning anyone with half a brain ought to pick up on.

Apparently Drax missed the day they were handing out brains back on his planet, because he just shrugs. “You spent your formative years enslaved by the Kree and you were rejected by your adopted family for delivering children to Ego. There was never anyone to teach you the skills you needed to parent a child.”

Yondu knows that flapping his mouth like a fish ain’t a good look for him, but he’ll be damned if he can pick his jaw up off the floor.

“Honestly, you did a very impressive job considering your deficiencies.” Drax gives him a friendly little pat on the shoulder. “But perhaps next time you should try to be gentle with him. Quill is very afraid of hurting your feelings, and he doesn’t know how to defend himself without doing so when you hurt his.”

Yondu’s too shocked to kill him.

Drax tilts his head a little and peers down at Yondu. “I’ve upset you. But it’s painful to watch you two continue to miscommunicate, especially when it is so obvious you want to be closer to him.”

Yondu tries to think of something cutting, a nasty retort to make the bastard stomp off or throw a punch, but his mind is blank. “He’s afraid of hurtin’ my feelings?” he asks faintly.

Drax nods.

“I—well, that’s stupid.” Yondu puffs up his shoulders. “Can’t hurt my damn feelings. I barely got any feelings t’ hurt!”

“He just did,” Drax says patiently, and Yondu wants to kill him. He imagines the arrow punching cleanly through one of those shockingly blue eyes, and he makes sure his smile communicates it.

“How’s about you get th’ hell outta my face, big guy,” he suggests, real reasonable. The arrow’s still busted, but that don’t make him helpless.

Drax stares at him for a long time and then shakes his head. “You have a second chance,” he says softly. “I would give _anything_ to be with my daughter again.”

Yondu blinks as Drax’s words hit home, and he’s suddenly ashamed of himself. He takes a step back in horror.

Drax’s kid _died._

He swallows, sucking in a rattling breath. “How the hell did you keep goin’?” he asks softly. The thought of Quill joining the piles of bones in the caverns below Ego’s planet has haunted him since he first laid eyes on the kid. It’s kept him awake more nights than he likes to remember, the cold creeping fear that it wouldn’t be enough, that nothing he did would be enough to protect his boy. It was his worst nightmare until just recently. 

And Drax lived it. His baby girl was murdered along with her mama, and he’s still standing here giving sad pieces of shit like Yondu parenting advice.

Drax’s mouth twists into something that’s not quite a smile. “Rage,” he says with a shrug. “I determined to do my part to protect other families from the fate that met mine.”

“But you already killed Ronan,” says Yondu slowly.

Drax nods. “Yes. And Thanos will pay eventually, but for now I am content with my lot. After all, the family we start out with is rarely the family we end up with.” He smiles sadly. “I wish you the best with Quill.”

After he leaves, Yondu slowly sits back down. He stares blankly at the wall, turning over everything Drax just said, and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to make this second chance of his count.

—

From there it becomes a regular thing. They’ll find each other a couple times a week and go back to someone’s room—typically the other guy’s, since the bed is bigger. Most times they fuck; dirty, lengthy sessions that leave Yondu sore and shaking. Sometimes they hang out in the bar, laughing at the other losers trying to pull. It’s easy.

They don’t talk about themselves.

Never the big stuff, anyway. Nothing about their crews or their locations or who they are on the outside. It don’t matter who they are on the outside. In here they can do whatever they want, kissing for hours until the guy will roll Yondu onto his back and slide so sweet into him that Yondu wants to cry. Yondu can get on his knees for the first time since Stakar showed him the flames, and it’s on _his_ terms, and that, he discovers, makes all the difference.

He don’t much like getting choked, although a big hand around his throat to pin him in place gets him hard and leaking. They figure each other out with every fuck; every time Yondu whispers for him to stop and the guy does, something inside Yondu relaxes the iron grip he’s kept on himself.

He rewards the guy with messy blowjobs, not that he’d admit that’s what he’s doing. He likes the way the guy’s thighs tremble under his hands when he gags on his cock. It’s a kind of power he never thought he would enjoy.

And after, they’ll tangle together under the covers. Yondu might like this part best of all; the freedom to reach out and touch is something he’s just started to realize he’d missed. Being the little spoon is pretty damn nice, actually. Makes him feel soft.

He’s not always sure what to do with all this softness; the guy seems as eager to touch Yondu as Yondu is to have him wrapped around him. But he doesn’t act comfortable with it, not like Quill does with his girl. Yondu don’t know the fella that well, but he’s said stuff that tells Yondu they’re both lonely miserable fucks on the outside.

At least he doesn’t have to explain his hangups. The guy’s got enough of his own to match Yondu.

Requesting to get fucked like an animal, for example, gets him a nasty look and the cold shoulder for the rest of the night. But ain’t neither of them the type to hold grudges, and things go back to normal the next time the guy steps up next to Yondu at the bar and slides over a drink.

—

“Dammit, Rat, lemme in!” Yondu pounds on the door, irritated.

“In a minute, asshole! Try not to have a goddamn heart attack out there while you wait five freaking seconds!” The door wrenches open and Rocket glares up at him. He’s got what looks like a hand towel knotted around his waist.

Yondu huffs. “The hell you doin’ in there?” he snaps.

“Takin’ a shower, not that it’s any of your business.” Rocket steps to the side. “Come on in.”

Yondu stomps inside and throws the pieces of his arrow onto Rocket’s workbench. “Fix it.”

Rocket looks at them, then at Yondu. “Gee, Rocket,” he says loudly, “it must be so great bein’ the smartest person on the ship an’ bein’ able to fix everything. I bet the rest of ‘em are _so_ grateful to you—”

“ _Please,_ ” Yondu grits out.

Rocket stops and blinks at him.

Yondu looks off to the side; that word still grates on him, but it ain’t so bad now. Gets him real nice results when he uses it on his new fuckbuddy, so he might as well see if it works outside the bedroom.

“Well,” says Rocket after a minute, “I guess since you asked nicely.” He turns away and reaches for his little suit.

Yondu can’t help but notice his back. It reminds him a bit of his own, all scarred and bare. Rocket’s got bolts and hardware sticking out of his skin, and a huge bald patch between his shoulder blades where the fur never grew back.

“It still hurt?” Yondu asks quietly.

Rocket stills. Then he lets the towel drop and steps into his suit. “Not really. Unless we go through an electrical storm, then my cybernetics get all fucked up.”

Yondu nods. Electrical storms are hell on his implant too. He’s been avoiding them as long as he’s had any say on the navs.

“Anyway.” Rocket turns back to him, finishing with the straps across his chest. “You’re askin’ me to take time out of my busy schedule to fix your arrow. What’s in it for me?”

Yondu narrows his eyes. “Thought we was friends.”

“Oh, we are. But you been askin’ a lot of favors lately, gramps.” Rocket grins.

“You’re such an asshole,” says Yondu good-naturedly.

Rocket laughs. “That’s why you like me, old man. I’m surprised you didn’t come lookin’ to get it fixed earlier.” He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure Yondu out.

Yondu shrugs and looks away. “There was more important stuff t’ worry about,” he says casually. It ain’t like he likes feeling helpless, but without the arrow no one expects him to be Yondu Udonta. That’s kinda nice.

“Uh huh.” Rocket’s a little too good at poking holes in Yondu’s bullshit. “I heard you been fightin’ with Quill.”

“News sure do travel fast on this ship,” says Yondu, glaring at him.

Rocket snorts. “That’s Drax and his big fuckin’ mouth. So what happened to bein’ the best daddy in the cosmos?”

The word makes his face go hot, but Yondu covers it with a nasty look. “You admittin’ you care now?”

“Jackass.” Rocket hops up onto the stool he’s got pulled up to the workbench. “I just don’t wanna deal with the pair of you walking around moping. He listens to that Father and Son song whenever he’s sad about you.”

Yondu’s chest stutters, and he has to look away. When he glances back, Rocket’s staring at him with a satisfied look. “I already heard about all my parenting deficiencies from Drax,” he says. “I ain’t gonna listen to it from you.”

“Like I know shit about raising kids,” Rocket shoots back. “My mother had an IQ of three and ate one of my siblings when it got sick.”

Yondu ain’t quite sure what to say to that.

“Point is, Drax has some weird ideas about what normal families are supposed to look like.” Rocket picks up half of the arrow, and it strikes Yondu that the little bugger is holding the most important part of himself in those clever little hands.

Yondu don’t normally let anyone touch that arrow. He wonders what it says that he handed it to Rocket without a thought.

He rubs his eyes. “He didn’t say nothin’ that wasn’t true,” he admits quietly.

“Well, that’s a given. Drax ain’t as dumb as he looks. He just don’t get stuff like we do. Apparently well-adjusted means out of touch with reality.”

“Could be we’s the ones that’s fucked up,” Yondu says wryly.

“Nah, that don’t sound right.” Rocket throws him a grin over his shoulder.

Yondu has to laugh. He takes a seat on the narrow bunk because it looks like Rocket’s getting started, and like hell is he gonna be anywhere else when his arrow is being repaired. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Why? You got somewhere to be?” Rocket reaches for a welding torch.

“I could.” Yondu unzips his boots and kicks his feet up on the bed. “Might have a hot date. Ain’t like you’d know, since I never see you on there.”

Rocket snorts. “Excuse you, dumbass. That was an alt I used to show you around. I know people on there and I ain’t about to be seen with your slutty noob ass.”

“I didn’t understand half the words you just used there,” says Yondu with a frown.

“Not a new feeling for you, I take it.” Rocket smirks. “I didn’t use my main avatar with you around. A guy’s gotta have some secrets.”

Stupid how Yondu never considered that Rocket would do the same thing he did. “Issat right? So you’ll take me out, but only when no one knows you?”

The shower of sparks from the torch makes Rocket’s laugh seem sinister. “Got it in one.”

“Dick,” Yondu mutters fondly. “Thought we had somethin’ special.”

“Be grateful I let you be seen with me at all. And shut up, I’m working here.”

Yondu shakes his head and lays back, folding his arms behind his head. He gets comfy, since it seems like it’s gonna take Rocket some time.

He ain’t sure when he drifts off, but somehow between Rocket’s humming and the gentle clanking of tools he passes the fuck out.

When he finally wakes, he can feel the arrow again, glowing and ready at the edge of his consciousness. He opens an eye to see Rocket still seated at his workbench with his back to him. He purses his lips and whistles once, just for the sheer joy of feeling the arrow fly into his hand.

Rocket flicks an ear in his direction. “You snore worse than Drax,” is all he says.

Yondu holds up the arrow and turns it, admiring the smooth surface of the shaft. “Did a damn fine job with it,” he tells Rocket.

“Of course I did.” Rocket swivels to face him. His expression is hard to read. “You’re gonna talk to Quill, right?”

Yondu looks at him. “Once I figure out what t’ say.”

Rocket nods. “Try not to wait too long, huh?”

“He say anything t’ you?” asks Yondu.  

“Nah. I think he figured it was all suddenly gonna be rosy between you two. Idiot doesn’t realize that shit takes work.”

“An’ when the hell did you become the expert on relationships?” Yondu raises his eyebrows.

“Since you made me take a long hard look at my own bullshit.” Rocket raises his chin. “You talk a big show, old man. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

Yondu stares at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but then shuts it again. Finally he just nods.

Rocket’s bright brown eyes stay locked on his for another minute, and then he nods too and turns the stool around.

—

The bubble bursts after a truly spectacular fuck involving a butt plug, a vibrator, and the guy pounding the hell out of Yondu’s cunt until Yondu was a sobbing, sloppy mess. Yondu’s hazy and fucked-out, lounging across the bed while he wiggles his toes and tries to regain muscle movement in his legs.

The guy’d had to hold them up there at the end.

His belly is a mess where he came all over himself, and his inner thighs are soaked with slick and lube and come. He ain’t about to move to deal with it, so the guy’s fumbling around the attached bathroom for a towel.

It’s the melody that catches him. The guy’s been humming since he rolled out of bed, but Yondu’s been too hazy to recognize the tune until now.

He knows this song. Been listening to it half his life.

And he knows there ain’t more than a handful of other folks in the galaxy who’ve heard ‘Fooled Around and Fell in Love’ often enough to hum along.

He sits up, yanking the sheets over his lap. The first, panicked thought that goes through his head is that it’s Quill, that he’s gonna have to throw himself back out the airlock because he’s fucked his own son. But that ain’t right.

Quill’s damn near married to Gamora, and Yondu raised him smarter than to go stepping out on a daughter of Thanos.

Which means it has to be Rocket.

Things slot into place with depressing clarity; the simple, easy way they are together, the cold shoulder when Yondu called him an animal in bed, the fact that Rocket fucking told him he’d made other handles on here.

He can’t believe he’s so stupid.

“Hey, baby,” The guy says, crawling back onto the bed and pressing a kiss to Yondu’s shoulder. He waggles the damp towel and sets it down on Yondu’s leg before he wraps big arms around him.

Except those arms ain’t actually big. They’re small and furry, and the hands that curl so perfectly around the back of his neck are little and rough and clever.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and that’s when Yondu realizes he’s breathing hard.

He can’t do this. Can’t sit here and pretend he doesn’t know. Part of him wishes—desperately—that he could, and sink back into a pleasant sex fog.

But this is Rocket, and he deserves better than that.

He jerks out of the embrace and wishes he could pull the covers up to his chin. “I...”

It starts to really hit him when he’s casting around for words. He’s been fucking Rocket. 

_Rocket’s_ the one he’s spread his legs for, bared his cunt and his soul.

He’s been calling him _Daddy._

“I gotta go,” he chokes out. “I jus’—”

“Whoa, baby, talk to me.” Rocket holds his hands up, and _how the fuck_ could Yondu have missed it before?

“Can’t,” he manages. “I—”

Those big brown eyes are so open and concerned. Yondu stares into his face and feels himself slump.

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid,” he mutters, looking down at the sheets bunched in his fingers. “It’s me, Rat.”

He’s not looking, so he doesn’t see Rocket’s expression. What he does see, from the corner of his eye, is the absolute stillness that falls over him.

“What?” His voice sounds faint.

“You ain’t the only one who made a new handle,” says Yondu heavily. He can’t meet Rocket’s eyes, not now that he’s thinking about all the filthy shit they’ve done together.

Which is why he doesn’t register at first that the stillness in the room ain’t because Rocket’s frozen up next to him.

He raises his head and looks around an empty room.

Rocket’s gone.

—

Yondu rips the sensors off his head and surges to his feet. His coat snaps as he shrugs into it and strides for the door. He don’t bother closing it behind him; now that the shock is wearing off, there’s a rage rising in him. Fury mixes with shame and something else he can’t place to form a thick, toxic sludge that churns in his gut.

How _dare_ that little bastard cut out on him?

“ _Rocket!_ ” he bellows as soon as he reaches his door. “Open up!”

He knows the rat’s in there, and the silence that meets him just stokes his anger to boiling. “ _Don’chu hide from me, you fuckin’ prick!_ ”

The door snaps open and if Yondu thought he was pissed, the gun in his face tells him he ain’t the only one. It’s one of the smaller ones Rocket owns, which means something, but right now he can’t be assed to figure out what.

“What the _fuck_ makes you think I wanna see you right now?” Rocket hisses.

Yondu bares his teeth in a snarl. “Who th’ hell you think I am, boy? You gonna run out on me? _Me?_ ”

Rocket’s face crumples for a second, just like it had on Ego when he’d realized there was no way out. But then he rallies. “It occur to you I don’t wanna look at your ugly mug just yet?” he snaps.

That hurts more than Yondu will admit, and that’s his only excuse for snarling “you think _you’re_ th’ one with a reason t’ melt down here?”

Rocket’s eyes go wide and hurt in the instant before he slams the door in Yondu’s face.

The anger whooshes out of him so fast it actually leaves him breathless, and it’s replaced with a new and bitterly familiar shame. Figures Rocket took that the wrong way.

He puts a hand on the door. “Didn’ mean it like that,” he says softly. Rocket’s got good hearing, and he knows all too well how sound carries through his ship. “Meant about me. You know I didn’t know, right?”

The silence that answers him is deafening.

Yondu thunks his forehead against the door. Or tries to; the implant keeps his actual head from touching metal. He scowls and takes a step back.

His instinct is to go on the offensive. Get pissed, break shit, and cover all the tender vulnerable spots with rage. But that didn’t work with Stakar and it won’t work now.

Yondu decides to take a minute. He paces away from Rocket’s door, mouth turned down in an ugly scowl as he tries to untangle all the crap going through his head.

There’s anger, sure. That’s a given; it’s been his go-to emotion since he can remember. But anger at who? It brings him up short when he thinks about it. This ain’t Rocket’s fault. Hell, the rat’s gotta be just as messed up over this as he is. And it sure as hell ain’t his fault. No way in hell would he have spent his hard-earned money just to fuck someone on the same damn ship. Much less a—

Well. That’s another little snag, ain’t it? Yondu whips around and paces back the way he came, coat snapping around his ankles. Rocket’s not just anyone. Yondu shudders a little just thinking about it. It’s weird and wrong, fucking an animal. One thing for folks who are never gonna meet Rocket in person, but now Yondu’s gotta square with the fact that he’s been bumping uglies with a fuzzy, genetically modified and cybernetically engineered critter that’s half his size.

But it’s also Rocket. And it didn’t feel wrong at the time. Yondu’s shoulder still burns from that last sweet little kiss Rocket planted there. And as for the not so sweet stuff...

Yondu’s man enough to admit (to himself, at least) that the shit he’s gotten up to with Rocket is the only decent sex he’s ever had.

“Yondu?”

He stops, closing his eyes and cursing every god he can think of. When he turns, Quill is standing there with a puzzled frown on his face.

Well, why not. Might as well line up all his fuckups in a nice neat row.

“Why are you pacing outside Rocket’s door?” Quill looks between him and the door like Rocket might open it and provide some answers.

“Thinkin’,” he answers gruffly. His boy’s always had a knack for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Quill chews his lip. “Hey, I wanted to tell you—I’m not mad about the other day. I mean, it doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

“I ain’t makin’ it a big thing.”

“You haven’t talked to me in three days,” Quill points out.

Yondu runs a hand over his face. “Kid,” he says roughly, “there’s a world o’ difference between knowin’ you done wrong an’ knowin’ how t’ do it right.”

God help him, Quill is the easy problem to focus on right now. He looks up at the man he raised and feels a horrible lump rise in his throat.

“Yondu—”

“I pulled my punches,” he blurts. Quill blinks at him. “When you was a kid,” he clarifies. “I never hit you with everything I had.”

Quill’s face twists with confusion and the beginnings of anger, and Yondu has to hold up a hand to give himself time to speak.

“I thought it was enough. Figured I was bein’ real gentle with ya, teachin’ you the way I learned. Only I was doin’ it better, see? Never did more’n bruise you a little.” He laughs, but it ain’t funny. “No broken bones or nothin’.”

The look on Quill’s face makes the twisted smile fall off Yondu’s. “You honestly thought that was okay?” Quill asks, frowning like he doesn’t believe it.

Yondu sighs. “Told you, that’s how I learned. Maybe if I’d had a mama t’ love me an’ sing me songs an’ give me stupid li’l nicknames I’d know better. But I never did. My mama sold me t’ the Kree when I was barely walkin’.”

Quill stares at him, stricken. “Yondu—”

“I’m gonna keep fuckin’ up,” Yondu says bluntly. “But I’m gonna keep tryin’. So tell me when I fuck up, an’ I’ll do better.”

He opens his mouth to tack something onto that, but he never gets the chance. Next thing he knows he’s got a big armful of Terran, and goddammit, however big this idiot gets he’s always gonna be Yondu’s little boy.

He presses his face into Quill’s neck and closes his eyes at the smell of him. It takes him back to when he was little and Yondu would wake up with him curled tight against his side.

“You’re a fucking mess,” mutters Quill against the side of his head, and he’d take offense, really he would, only he knows that it’s true. The boy doesn’t even know the half of it.

“Yeah,” he croaks. His eyes are stinging, but he chalks that up to a glitch in the filtration systems as he wraps his arms around his boy and holds on tight.

This don’t make up for all the hell Yondu’s put Quill through. Doesn’t even come close. But it feels a little like a start toward building something better. Yondu just has to keep it up.

_Use your words_ is what Rocket told him. And holy hell, how can that be the same person who made Yondu feel bad about his teeth for the first time in fifteen years? Yondu can’t wrap his head around it.

He’s not sure he wants to, so he squeezes Quill tighter.

—

Rocket ain’t at breakfast the next morning when everyone settles in. The Guardians eat all their meals together, something that Yondu and Kraglin are still getting used to. Back on the _Eclector,_ meals were in shifts, and folks wandered in at their leisure. Now it’s a big deal if someone ain’t around when it’s time to chow down.

Quill looks around. “Where’s Rocket?”

“I am Groot,” the twig tells him.

“He ain’t a kid,” says Yondu gruffly. “He can eat when he wants.”

He can feel eyes on him, but he focuses on the protein sludge he’s eating. He’s not ready to face any questions from Quill about why he was outside Rocket’s door the night before the rat missed a meal.

“Guess that’s true,” Quill mutters, but he sounds unhappy about it.

Kraglin averts his gaze when Yondu looks over, and that’s damn irritating. After the meal, Yondu elbows him into a deserted corridor.

“What was all that?” he snaps.

“All what?” Kraglin looks extra cagey, and really, he oughta know better than that, because it just pisses Yondu off.

He narrows his eyes. “Servin’ me looks all through breakfast. Mind sharin’ what your problem is?”

Kraglin’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Don’t like seein’ ya fight with Rocket, is all,” he finally says.

“An’ what makes you think that’s what’s happenin’?”

“‘Cause ya looked like Quill walked up an’ pissed in your food when he asked about him.” Kraglin crosses his arms. “Don’t gotta tell me nothin’, Cap’n, but I ain’t a bad listener.”

Yondu turns away in disgust. How the hell is Kraglin of all people so well-adjusted? Don’t seem right.

“Yeah, he ain’t happy with me,” he finally says. “Ain’t no one’s fault, but I pissed him off an’ now he’s holed up someplace.”

Kraglin just looks at him. “Thought he liked ya,” he says softly.

Yondu’s throat suddenly feels tight. “I thought he did too.” He whips back around and peers at Kraglin. “Krags.”

“Yeah?”

Yondu swallows. “How come we never did nothin’?” It ain’t like they weren’t close enough. “Turns out I had th’ right equipment th’ whole time, so why you think it didn’t happen?”

Kraglin takes a step back, looking a little alarmed. “Cap’n,” he sounds pained. “I like women. Don’t much matter to me if they got cunts, cocks, cloacas, or what. But you ain’t anything _close_ to bein’ a girl.”

Yondu’s brow furrows as he lets Kraglin’s words sink in. Ain’t like he didn’t know about the whole spectrum of genitalia—bots come with a lot of different options, after all, and that stars-damned site had a huge range to choose from—but somehow, Yondu’s had it stuck in some part of his head all this time that cunt meant female.

Pretty stupid, if he thinks about it. Which he’s made it a point not to do over the years, because the words of a scared little girl left an old wound that hurt every time he poked it. Stupid kid was warning him about rape, he knows that now. She was just trying to help, and god knows she must’ve come from some planet even more backward than Yondu’s if she thought half girl was even a thing.

Hell, as far as he knows even the Kree don’t hold with ideas that barbaric. Not concerning gender, anyway. They think owning sentient beings is just fine.

“Cap’n?”

He blinks into Kraglin’s concerned face, which is a bit too close to his. He pushes his shoulder and scowls until Kraglin takes the hint and backs up.

“You ain’t been thinkin’ this whole time that you wasn’t a...” Kraglin casts around for words that won’t get him in trouble.

“A proper man?” Yondu runs a hand over his face. Kraglin’s a good guy, he deserves a break. “Yeah. Reckon I have.”

“That ain’t true.” When Yondu looks, Kraglin’s eyes are big and watery. “Sir, that ain’t true at all. You ain’t just a man, you’re a good one. I wouldn’t follow nobody but you.”

Well, shit. Yondu’s been smacked in the head with too damn many emotions in the last two days. He’s liable to burst or something. Can’t be good for his health.

He swallows the lump in his throat and croaks “thanks.”

They avoid each other’s eyes for a minute while they get themselves back together, but after Yondu’s cleared his throat loudly a few times and Kraglin’s grunted affirmation to nothing in particular, they have to resume normal relations.

“Hope ya figure things out with the rat,” Kraglin offers.

Something about that doesn’t sit quite right, but Yondu grunts instead of trying to untangle it. He appreciates the thought.

—

Yondu logs in once, just to see if he can still enjoy it without Rocket.

It’s not the same. Sure, he can pull with his pretty brown face and his tight little body, but even if he followed it through and let these guys bend him over, they wouldn’t know what he needs.

He stares into the expensive drink he ordered and finally lets his mind go there.

He thinks about clever little hands, black-skinned and rough, moving over his skin. It’s not all imagination; he’s had Rocket’s hands on him before when he installed his new fin. He remembers that feeling, tries to imagine those hands wrapped around his throat, or his cock.

It’s strange, but he wouldn’t say it’s bad. He picks up his drink and takes a sip, settling in for a little introspection.

Rocket ain’t so bad to look at, all things considered. Might even be handsome, if Yondu’s being fair. He’s got those big brown eyes and that quick, nasty smile, and Yondu remembers thinking his voice was pretty sexy before he saw what Rocket really looked like.

Of course, that’d been a passing thought, since the little maniac had been threatening to blow up his ship.

Yondu has to hide a grin in his glass. The boy sure knows how to make a first impression.

And the thought of that growly voice calling him baby boy and ordering him around in bed? Well, Yondu wouldn’t say he hates that. He’s not put off by the thought of screwing Rocket. He just isn’t sure if it gets him going.

Or maybe he is, and it scares him a little. He’s seen Rocket take down two grown men; it ain’t like the rat couldn’t hold him down if he wanted.

The idea makes him squirm a little, just like the thought of Rocket’s long, pink tongue on his cunt. A picture starts to form in his mind of holding his legs open while Rocket looks him over with that dark, hot look he gets when they fuck.

Yondu throws back the last of his drink.

Okay, so he’s into Rocket. Figures. He never could manage to do anything the normal way.

The problem, now that he gets to thinking, is that he’s not sure whether Rocket’s into him. Little guy made it pretty clear what he thinks of the sort who’d be interested in him. Yondu’s not sure how much of that is defensive. He’s also a little disturbed thinking about what kind of people might have approached Rocket in the past. Once you get to know him, Rocket’s a vicious little demon, but at first glance he’s mighty soft and inviting. He’d look like easy prey to folks who were into shit like that.

Yondu grips his glass a little too hard before he logs out. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring at the ceiling in his quarters with questions swirling around his brain.

He pulls the sensors off his head and flings them aside, rubbing a hand across his face. He’s seriously thinking about having sex with his kid’s fuzzy buddy.

Assuming the fuzzy in question ever talks to him again, which he might not, because he’s a prickly little bastard whose feelings Yondu’s managed to hurt.

He’s not sure if this is a new low, because it feels pretty shitty. Yondu’s never had what anyone could call a relationship, and he has no idea what having one with Rocket would even look like.

Because that’s what this would be: a relationship. There’s no screwing around with Rocket and walking away; the rat’s dignity would never allow it. This would be the two of them, hanging out and talking shit and fucking when the mood strikes them.

Hell if that doesn’t sound kind of nice.

Yondu tucks an arm behind his head and considers it in an idle sort of way. Smirks a little thinking about their back and forth, and imagines it sliding seamlessly into the kind of dirty talk that gets him hot and dripping.

His cock starts to chub up in his pants, but he don’t feel like touching it right now. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to thoughts of Rocket’s vicious little smile and clever hands.

—

He wakes up to vines wrapping around his ankles the split second before he’s bodily yanked out of bed and slammed to the floor.

The breath goes out of him and pain lances up his back, but that’s all secondary to the tiny fists that start banging on the side of his head while a furious little voice bellows “I am _Groot!_ ”

Well, fuck.

“Twig,” Yondu wheezes, “I dunno what he told you, but this ain’t my fault.”

The fists pause, but only for a second before they’re back and harder than before. “I am Groot,” the twig snarls at him. “I am Groot! _I am Groot!_ ”

“Goddammit,” growls Yondu, and he grabs Groot with both hands, pinning those surprisingly strong fists to his sides.”Hey. _Hey!_ ” he repeats when the twig won’t stop yelling.

Groot keeps struggling, shooting glares at him.

“How bad is he?” asks Yondu softly.

Groot promptly bursts into tears.

“Aw, hell.” Yondu loosens his grip and pulls the kid in for a hug. “Hey, kid. ‘S okay.”

“I am Groot,” Groot whispers.

Yondu pets up and down his back, gentle like he never let himself be with Quill. “I wanna make things right, Twig. You gonna help me?”

Groot gives him big shiny eyes, and Yondu feels a little smile tug at the corner of his lips just from the sight.

“That’s right,” he coaxes, “I know he’s gone an’ messed himself up good, ain’t he? He tell you it’s ‘cause o’ me?”

Groot nods tearfully.

Yondu sighs and keeps the scowl off his face. “Figures,” he mutters. “Help me fix this, Twig?”

“I am Groot.” Yondu still can’t understand the kid, but that sounded encouraging.

“Show me where he’s holed up?” he asks gently.

Groot nods.

—

Yondu snags a bottle of liquor from the galley, even though Groot watches it with wary, sad eyes as he picks it up.

“Never hurts t’ bring presents,” he explains with a wink, setting Groot on his shoulder. “Now show me where he’s at.”

As bad as Groot is at taking directions, he’s not too bad at giving them. He leads Yondu with little tugs on his ear through the Quadrant until they reach the lower deck. Yondu nods approvingly at Rocket’s choice of hidey hole once Groot finally stops; it’s a little storage area close to the reactor, where it’s nice and warm.

Groot points up.

“He in the ducts in there?” Yondu asks.

Groot nods.

Yondu sets the kid down. “Thanks Twig. Now, you don’t wanna be here for this. He’s real mad at me an’ he’s gonna say some nasty shi—stuff you ain’t gotta hear. Got it?”

Groot nods and helpfully pats his boot before he scampers away.

Yondu watches him go, squares his shoulders, and reaches for the doorknob.

The door bursts open before he can touch it, and Quill comes barreling out. He bounces off Yondu, takes a step back, and then looks like he’s about to puke.

Yondu learned that look real early. “The hell you doin’ down here?” he snaps.

Quill’s mouth flaps, but every time he tries to meet Yondu’s eyes his gaze skitters away.

Oh no.

Yondu hasn’t felt cold like this since they pulled him outta the black. The bottle slides from his fingers and goes rolling away. “What’d he say?” he whispers, taking a step back.

Quill doesn’t answer.

“Quill,” Yondu repeats a little stronger. “Fuck’s sake, boy, look at me!”

His boy tries, he really does, but he doesn’t quite make it. “I, uh, I’ll see you around, Yondu,” he mumbles, and steps around him.

Yondu stares after him as he flees down the corridor, stricken.

“I knew,” he says slowly to the empty room, “I _knew_ you could be nasty. I knew you was mean enough t’ take a man’s weak spots an’ use ‘em against him. But I didn’t think you’d do that t’ me.”

He feels numb. How much did Rocket spit at Quill? Is it the fact that it’s Rocket that has his boy shrinking away from him, or the rest of it?

“ _Fuck you!_ ” comes the choked answer from somewhere above his head.

“What did you tell him?” snarls Yondu.

“Oh sorry, does it hurt when someone betrays you and ruins your life?” Rocket’s directly above him, and god help him, Yondu’s tempted to whistle.

“He had nothin’ t’ do with this. Why would you go an’ drag him into the middle?” Yondu doesn’t much care for how his voice breaks. He swallows and tries again. “I swear I didn’t know, Rat.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Yondu winces. “Rocket. I didn’t know. You think I’d do that t’ you?”

“I think you’re a miserable sack of shit with no friends and no family. Get out.”

“ _God,_ you are a mean little bitch.” Yondu rubs a hand over his face.

“You’re the only bitch I see around here. Quill didn’t like it much when I told him his dad calls me daddy too.”

It’s been a long time since anyone’s managed to knock the breath out of Yondu with just words. “You’re better’n this. Twig’s all broken up over you.”

“You keep away from Groot,” Rocket growls.

Yondu sighs. He just woke up, but he’s bone tired now. “That hole inside you’s gonna swallow you up if you let it,” he says quietly. “Then it’s gonna be you who’s the miserable sack o’ shit with no friends an’ no family, lookin’ for a connection with strangers ‘cause you ran off everyone who was willin’ t’ love you. You wanna talk about what happened, you come find me. I ain’t wastin’ my time chasin’ you around.”

Silence is his only answer, not that he expected anything different. He nudges the bottle with his toe and shakes his head before walking out.

He’s gotta figure out how the hell he’s gonna look his boy in the face again. Whether or not he’s willing to forgive Rocket depends on that.

—

It’s Kraglin who comes to find him, after his shift on the bridge is over. He knocks and waits for Yondu to get up and open the door before he slinks in, wide-eyed and sincere.

“Saw Pete earlier,” is all he says, and Yondu huffs a bitter little sound that might be a laugh.

“Yeah,” he says tiredly. “‘Course you did.”

The twig fell asleep on his pillow earlier, and Yondu can’t bring himself to move the kid. He’s so damn little, after all. So he sits heavily on the couch and motions to Kraglin to keep his voice down.

Kraglin raises an eyebrow, but sits down next to him. “Reminds me o’ Pete when he was little. Used t’ come sleep in here, remember?”

“Yep.” And now the kid won’t look at him because he accidentally fucked a mean ass rodent.

Kraglin notices the change in his demeanor and frowns. “What’d the rat do?”

“Don’t call him that. He ain’t an animal.” Yondu glances at Groot and then sighs. “Okay. I’m gonna level with you, Krags.”

Kraglin nods, sitting up a little.

So Yondu tells him, minus a couple embarrassing details. All of it, from the online club to the seamless way he and Rocket fell in together to the shit Rocket’s told Quill, and Kraglin listens quietly, his bushy brows drawn tight over worried eyes.

“Ya didn’t kill him?” he asks in disbelief.

“I see what he’s doin’,” says Yondu heavily. “He’s hurtin’ an’ it makes him mean.”

“Not tryin’ to make trouble, boss, but how the fuck is that your fault?” Kraglin rests his elbows on his bony knees. “You didn’t do nothin’ to him. This was just a real big misunderstanding.”

Yondu’s been sighing a lot lately. “Yeah, it was. An’ I’m plenty pissed off at him, but...” He searches around for the words. “I don’t think he meant a damn word he said to me.”

“But he still said ‘em,” Kraglin points out, not unkindly. “I know you’re the forgiving kind, but some folks don’t deserve forgivin’.”

“We talkin’ about him or you, Kraglin?” Yondu looks at him.

Kraglin’s shoulders hunch in. “I—you know I deserved t’ die with the rest of ‘em,” he says softly. “I was ready for ya to kill me soon as you got your fin back.”

Yondu sits back and studies Kraglin for a long moment. “Thought I already told you. Life’s too short t’ let go o’ the people who love you. Even if they fuck up an’ hurt you. Long as they keep tryin’ to do better, you’re better with ‘em than alone.”

Kraglin narrows his eyes. “You think he loves you?”

Yondu’s mouth falls open. “Now wait just a damn minute, that’s not what I said.”

“Ya kinda did,” Kraglin points out. “So do you?”

Yondu breathes in, sharply enough that Kraglin jumps, and closes his mouth. He thinks about the arrow quivering against his thigh, ready for action, and the look on Rocket’s face right before he’d turned and left Yondu to a hero’s death. Or the way he’d kissed his shoulder and called him baby.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “I do.”

—

He comes awake to the feeling of eyes on him. A quick glance at the pillow next to his head tells him the twig scampered off sometime while he was sleeping.

“‘S goddamn creepy, sittin’ here watchin’ me sleep,” he says without moving.

Rocket doesn’t answer him. His eyes glow in the dim starlight from Yondu’s window, and he stinks like the liquor Yondu left for him.

Yondu tries again. “You better be here t’ grovel for tellin’ my boy about all this.”

“I been thinkin’,” says Rocket, like Yondu hasn’t even spoken.

Yondu sighs. “About what?”

“About how stupid I would look trying to fuck you.” Rocket shifts, settling more of his weight on the bed. “Like those vids of orloni trying to hump cabyvar. People share those on the holonet sometimes. For laughs, you know?”

Yondu doesn’t say anything.

Rocket chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “You ruined everything.”

“This don’t sound much like an apology,” says Yondu coldly.

Rocket moans quietly, grabbing at the fur on his face and pulling cruelly. “We were good,” he says. “You and me, we had somethin’ real good.”

“Yeah,” Yondu agrees. “We did.” 

“An’ then you had to barge into _my_ space, my _private_ life, an’ turn our thing into something dirty and—and—” Rocket breaks down then, curling into himself as hiccuping sobs wrack his little body.

Yondu isn’t sure he’s allowed to touch him, so he just watches. He could never stand this kind of helplessness; it used to make him crazy when it was Quill sobbing his heart out in front of him, too-big emotions tearing through him until they left him exhausted. Now he’s gotta do it all over again watching Rocket cry himself out.

“I ain’t takin’ the blame for that,” he says once Rocket’s sobbing has quieted down. “An’ if you pulled your head outta your ass for a second you’d know I was lookin’ for the same thing as you.”

Rocket’s quiet a minute. “Yeah,” he admits in a small voice.

“So tell me why th’ hell I oughta give you a goddamn thing after you been so nasty to me?” Yondu sits up. “You told my _boy_ about the shit we did.”

“No I didn’t.” Rocket looks down, ashamed. He picks at a loose thread on Yondu’s blanket. “I told him I slept with you. That’s all. None of the other stuff, Yondu. You gotta believe me.”

Yondu stares at him, eyes narrowed. “I let you in further than anybody else since Stakar, you know that?” he asks softly. “Wasn’t on purpose, but you got the closest. An’ you went an’ hit me in every soft spot I showed you.”

Rocket won’t look at him. “I figured if I went first it wouldn’t be so bad when you took a shot.”

“Like stealin’ batteries you don’t need,” growls Yondu. “Guess you wasn’t listenin’ to a damn word I said back then. Funny, I thought I reached you.”

“You did,” Rocket whispers. “God, you did.” He hugs himself.

“You got a funny way of showin’ it. Or are you tryin’ t’ say somethin’ else?” asks Yondu, swallowing down something fluttery in his chest.

“You know what I mean.” Rocket glares at him, lips pulling back to show off his sharp little teeth.

Yondu has a sudden, wild urge to let him bite. Lust stabs him hard in the gut as his hands clench on the blankets. If he had any doubts about wanting Rocket, they’re gone now.

Rocket’s nose twitches. “You pervert,” he hisses.

“You can smell that?” Yondu’s horrified. He shifts his legs closer together.

“Don’t bother. This close it don’t make a difference.” Rocket’s eyes slide closed as he huffs another breath.

That shouldn’t be sexy. Somehow it still is. “Cut it out,” he snaps. “I’m still pissed at you, boy. Don’t care how good you are in bed, you owe me.”

Rocket laughs. It might be the most bitter sound Yondu’s ever heard. “Good in bed. That’s a fucking joke.” He glares at Yondu. “You know I can’t do any of the shit you want, right?”

“Until you help me make things right with Quill, I don’t want a damn thing from you.”

Rocket crawls closer. “All the things you need? A big strong guy to hold you down and fuck you? I can’t do that.”

Yondu watches him warily, wondering how mean he’s gonna get as they circle around to the heart of the issue.

Rocket stops when he’s crouched next to Yondu, close enough to touch. “I can’t give you anything you want,” he whispers, staring up into Yondu’s face with those wide brown eyes.

Yondu sighs. “As fucked as your head is, boy, I ain’t sure how you fucked mine just right.”

“What?”

“There was plenty of other people in that bar, you idiot. You think I picked you just ‘cause o’ your looks?” Yondu looks away.

Rocket looks down too. Maybe he’s embarrassed; it’s hard to tell. “You wouldn’t have picked me without ‘em,” he mutters.

“I kept comin’ back ‘cause it was good,” Yondu admits. “Wasn’t about how you looked, it was about what you did.”

“Can’t do half that shit.” Rocket won’t look at him. “I can’t even kiss you, Yondu, _fuck._ ” He sounds like he’s about to start crying again.

Yondu sighs again and lets himself fall back. His head hits the pillow and it’s so tempting to just ignore Rocket and his attendant bullshit and go back to sleep.

He’s so damn tired.

“Here’s the deal,” he says after a minute. “You could be it for me, boy. I get you. I know how your mind works. You’re smart, an’ you’re funny. An’ ain’t _nobody_ ever fucked me like you did.”

Rocket finally raises his head and stares at Yondu.

“But,” Yondu tells him, “all this fallin’ t’ pieces an’ takin’ cheap shots at folks who’s tryin’ t’ help you is makin’ me rethink that. You ever stop an’ think how I felt when I found out it was you?”

“I—” Rocket drops his eyes.

“No,” Yondu answers for him. “You didn’t give a damn about what it was like for me. So gimme a reason why I oughta give you another shot.”

Rocket’s quiet, head bowed. “Please,” he finally whispers. “Please. I’m sorry, I am so sorry, Yondu. Please. I thought—fuck, it don’t even matter what I thought. I can’t lose this, Yondu. I _can’t_ —” His voice breaks, and he trails off with a low groan.

Yondu watches him flounder for a minute before he says, real soft, “how long you been in love with me, boy?”

Rocket gasps, those big brown eyes wide with absolute horror. “What?” he yelps, “I don’t—”

Yondu raises an eyebrow and whistles.

The arrow comes to him as easy as breathing, and in the reddish glow he can see Rocket’s gaze flit between it and his face.

“Wanna try bein’ honest this time?” he asks.

Rocket swallows. “Since the _Eclector,_ ” he finally mutters. “When you took out the crew.”

The whole time they’ve known each other, practically. Yondu sees it now. “That’s what you was about t’ tell me back on Ego’s planet, ain’t it?”

Rocket shudders. “Yeah.” He wraps his little arms around himself, claws digging into his skin.

Yondu whistles the arrow back to its holster. “But you didn’t say it.”

“Because we don’t _fit!_ ” Rocket yells. “Nothin’ about us is compatible! I’m half your goddamn size! I’m an _animal,_ Yondu.”

“No you’re not.”

Rocket stops with his mouth hanging open.

“You ain’t an animal anymore than I’m a woman,” says Yondu. He swallows, shame churning his gut just from speaking the words.

“You thought...?” Rocket blinks a few times. “Oh my god. No. I never thought that about you, you gotta know that, right?”

Yondu raises an eyebrow. “Back at ya,” he says softly.

They’re both quiet for a long time.

“I should go,” Rocket finally says. “I can talk to Quill in the morning, let him know the crap I said was just me bein’ a dick about you.”

“You’re damn right you’re gonna talk t’ Quill in the morning,” says Yondu around a yawn, “but I don’t reckon you gotta run along just now.”

Rocket goes still. “You mean it?” he asks in a small voice.

He’s so fragile. Yondu could shatter him with a word, if he wanted. Instead he nods once, eyes on the ceiling above him to spare the kid the indignity of getting caught crying again.

It takes Rocket a few minutes to move. When he does, he’s careful, holding his breath as he lays down on his back next to Yondu.

Yondu sighs. “You’re too far away, boy,” he mutters, and reaches out to pull Rocket onto his chest.

Rocket freezes, tense and still where he’s resting all along Yondu’s front. Yondu reaches up to stroke him and then remembers his back.

“I dunno where t’ touch you,” he whispers.

“ _Anywhere,_ ” sighs Rocket, and he melts against Yondu so sweetly that Yondu can almost forget how damn vicious he can be.

A narrow little chin tucks into his neck as Yondu rests his hand on Rocket’s back. He feels around a little, real gentle, to figure out where the worst of the hardware is. It takes him a minute to find a safe place to put his hand down, but Rocket hums appreciatively when he does.

He’s bedded down with plenty of people over the years, so it’s stupid that this feels any different. Rocket’s isn’t the first warm body he’s had pressed close to his own, but he’d never realized how exciting it is to have the person he wants right within reach. Rocket runs hot, a furry little blanket plastered to Yondu’s chest.

He’s also trembling, just a little. “I got you,” says Yondu softly, and Rocket sighs in response.

“Dunno why.”

“Quit fishin’ for compliments,” mutters Yondu. “Sleep. You ain’t run me off yet.”

Rocket goes quiet then, his breath slowing. It’s still a fair bit faster than Yondu’s, but then, he’s got smaller lungs.

It’s awhile before he passes out; Yondu can tell he’s really asleep by the way his foot twitches. His tail rests against Yondu’s hip, barely noticeable through the sleep pants Yondu has on.

Yondu lays awake and pets the safe spot on Rocket’s lower back, trying to muster up some more anger over the hell the little bastard’s put him through. Might be fucked up, but he can’t. He knows Quill’s gonna throw a fit when they go talk to him in the morning, and Kraglin’s gonna give him that look he gets when he thinks Yondu’s being an idiot, but the truth is he _likes_ this.

Rocket’s about as high maintenance as they come, but Yondu ain’t exactly a cakewalk either. He figures this is like the high-risk jobs he used to like running when he was a pup: if it don’t kill him, the payoff will be better than anything he’s ever had.

—

It’s the cold nose twitching against his neck that wakes him the next time, and he smirks at Rocket’s absolute failure to be stealthy about nuzzling him.

The motion stops. “I know you’re awake,” Rocket says. “Your breathing changes.”

“Issat right?” Yondu tucks an arm behind his head.

Rocket sighs. Honestly, Yondu’s a little surprised he’s still here. Wouldn’t be unlike the kid to take off before Yondu woke up and avoid all the awkwardness. But he stayed.

Yondu gives him credit for that.

They lay there in silence for awhile. Yondu isn’t entirely sure what to say, and he figures Rocket’s about as lost as he is. He finds himself missing the way they used to curl together after sex.

“Goddammit,” he mutters. “This used t’ be easy.”

Rocket chokes a laugh. “No pressure then.” One of those little hands grips Yondu’s sleep shirt, pulling it tight in his fist. “You said it yourself. You put on a new face and you can be honest, because it ain’t real.”

“It was real,” says Yondu softly.

Rocket finally looks at him. Those wide, wounded eyes are gonna be Yondu’s downfall, he can already tell. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Yondu reaches up, real slow because he knows Rocket ain’t used to touching yet, and cups Rocket’s cheek. His face fits surprisingly well into the cradle of Yondu’s palm.

“What are you doing?” Rocket’s eyes fall shut. He goes still again, like he’s forgetting to breathe.

“Figurin’ out how t’ touch you,” Yondu tells him, and smiles at the whine that escapes Rocket’s throat.

“Yondu,” he says shakily, and Yondu strokes his thumb over Rocket’s lips.

“Wanna be good for you,” Yondu whispers. Rocket’s lips are velvety soft, hiding his sharp teeth. It’s a real good metaphor for the rest of him.

Rocket moans quietly and opens his mouth, catching Yondu’s thumb and closing his lips around it. A hot tongue touches the tip, and Yondu shudders. “You are good,” Rocket mutters, popping Yondu’s thumb out of his mouth. “You’re so good. Too good for me, baby, I—”

“Hey,” murmurs Yondu. “None o’ that. We’re gonna figure it out, hm? Learn it together.” He wants Rocket’s mouth on him again, so he pets over his lips with his wet thumb.

Rocket licks it, and the sight of that wet, pink tongue sends heat flooding through Yondu’s abdomen.

But then Rocket sighs. “I should probably go talk to Quill,” he mutters.

“Now?” Yondu gapes at him. He’d been thinking things were about to get good.

Rocket sits up, straddling Yondu’s chest. “Don’t feel right, puttin’ it off.” He looks down, letting his hands play along the front of Yondu’s shirt.

Yondu narrows his eyes. “You tryin’ t’ put off fuckin’ me?” he asks bluntly.

“What?” Rocket looks up, horrified. “No! I mean, I—” he breaks off into guilty silence. “It ain’t because of you, okay? You’re great.”

“I’m so great, why ain’t you balls deep in my cunt yet?” Yondu narrows his eyes and watches Rocket gulp with more satisfaction than he probably should.

“I’m not even sure you’d feel it,” Rocket confesses softly. He wiggles his finger into a small hole in Yondu’s shirt like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

Yondu has to touch him then. He strokes the backs of his fingers along Rocket’s cheek. “Hey. Look at me.”

Rocket slowly raises his eyes.

“If it turns out that’s th’ case, then we find other ways t’ get off. You spent your whole life figurin’ out tougher problems than this one, an’ I’m a little smarter than I look.” Yondu gives him a crooked grin. “You afraid of a little hard work, darlin’?”

Rocket stares at him, and it hurts to see the way the hope rises in his eyes for a second before he shuts it away. He snorts. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“Damn right,” Yondu agrees. “But if you wanna talk t’ Quill instead, we don’t gotta figure it out just now.” He stretches his arms over his head, feeling the scars on his back pull. “Can’t say I know too many guys who turn down a blowjob t’ go have awkward chats, but you was always a weird one.”

Rocket’s eyes run greedily over Yondu’s body before his words register. “Wait, what? You never said anything about blowjobs.”

Yondu grins, letting his tongue curl over his crooked eyetooth. “No? Coulda sworn we was headed in that direction.”

Rocket looks a little dazed. It does great things for Yondu’s ego. “I, uh,” he manages. “Maybe?”

Yondu shrugs. “Ah well. Guess we can look into it later.”

“Sure.” Rocket reluctantly climbs off Yondu and watches while he gets to his feet. When Yondu looks back, he’s openly ogling the curve of his ass.

Well.

Yondu chuckles. “‘S all yours, darlin’. Little saggier than you was expectin’, probably.”

Rocket bites his lip, but gives in a second later and snickers. “Looks pretty good from here.”

“If you’re gonna go talk t’ Quill, you might wanna shower the liquor smell offa ya,” Yondu points out.

Rocket wrinkles his nose. “Yeah.” He climbs down from the bed. “Care if I use yours?”

“Go right ahead.” Yondu braces himself and pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn’t want Rocket’s first time seeing his scars to be when he’s trying to feel sexy. God knows there’s nothing sexy about the jagged flesh of his back, or the mess of his arm, or the puckered gash along his ribs.

He hears the quick indrawn breath behind him and doesn’t turn.

“You used to have a crest,” says Rocket flatly.

“Yep.” Yondu sniffs at a shirt in his clothes pile and finds it pleasantly clean. Guess Drax and Gamora’s insistence on regular laundry ain’t such a bad idea. He shrugs it on. “Kree took it a couple years after they bought me. I got injured an’ it got infected. They didn’t know it was a sensory organ. Or maybe they did, an’ they just didn’t care.”

Rocket’s quiet. “It was red, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Yondu debates for a second before shoving his pants down. They’ve done everything else out of order, so why not this? He kicks his underwears off to the pile and grabs a new pair.

“Okay, you gotta get some sexier underwear,” says Rocket behind him.

Yondu turns, half bent over to put the new pair on. “That right?”

“Definitely. I can see sweat stains on those and there’s a goddamn hole in the band.” Rocket crosses his arms.

“I could just go without,” Yondu suggests innocently.

Rocket’s eyes glaze for a second and linger deliberately on Yondu’s ass. “Or I could pick some out for you. If you want.”

Yondu pauses, turning the idea over in his head. “Nothin’ girly,” he says after a pause.

“No,” Rocket agrees. “Wouldn’t suit you.”

Yondu swallows down the lump that forms in his throat and nods. “Okay then.” He steps into his unsexy underwear and tugs them up. “Go on now, shower that stink off ya an’ we’ll get some grub ‘fore we go talk t’ Quill.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rocket disappears into the bathroom, and Yondu puts on his pants.

He fastens the arrow holster around his thigh, relishing the feeling of security it brings him. He never feels dressed without the arrow, no matter how much skin he covers.

Distantly, he hears the water stop in the bathroom as he’s tying his scarf. When he looks over, Rocket’s drying himself off with Yondu’s towel. He fluffs up real cute, but Yondu doesn’t comment. All that would do is piss him off, and Yondu’s had enough of fighting.

Rocket sniffs his suit, makes a face, and puts it on anyway. He takes his time fussing with the straps, but eventually he can’t pretend he’s doing anything but staving off the inevitable.

“Ready?” Yondu asks him, hovering by the door.

They both know going out there is gonna mean answering well-meaning questions from the others. Yondu can’t say he’s looking forward to it, although he’ll be damned if he lets Rocket think he’s ashamed of him. Still, he’s never done this before; he has no idea how to announce that they’re a thing without anyone making a fuss over it.

Rocket nods grimly. “Yeah. Might as well get it over with.” He squares his shoulders.

Yondu opens the door.

—

It ain’t as bad as he was worried about. Sure, the twig throws himself at Rocket as soon as they get to the mess hall, and Gamora raises her eyebrows at his sudden reappearance, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, Groot,” Rocket mumbles, awkwardly patting his little back. “Hey, it’s cool now. Quit cryin’, would you?”

“I am _Groot_ ,” Groot grumbles, shoving his face into Rocket’s fur.

“He’s not the only one who was worried about you,” says Gamora coolly. “I don’t know what you said to Peter, but I know it was bad.”

Rocket’s whiskers droop. “He ain’t been moping, has he?”

“Moping isn’t the word I would use. Brooding, maybe.” Her expression thaws a bit. “You should probably apologize.”

Rocket winces. “Yeah, uh, I actually knew that. Where is he, anyway? I gotta talk to him.”

Yondu looks up to see movement in the doorway. Quill’s stopped dead on the threshold, looking between Yondu and Rocket with a slightly pinched expression.

“Quit lookin’ like I farted on your pillow, boy,” Yondu mutters, ignoring Rocket’s muttered “ew” from behind him. “C’mon in here, I gotta talk t’ you.”

Quill steps into the room, edging around them to take a seat next to Gamora. He tucks against her side and she lets him; Yondu imagines their fingers tangling under the table and bites back the smile.

He looks at Rocket, who’s holding Groot against his chest like a kid with a blanket, and shakes his head. God help him, the idiot makes him wanna be a better man.

So he looks at the other idiot who makes him wanna be a better man and says, “reckon you got a nasty shock, what with him springin’ that on ya like he did.”

Quill looks down, clearly embarrassed. He can get in line; it ain’t his sex life they’re talking about. Yondu suddenly wishes Gamora would leave. “Yeah,” says Quill slowly, “I can safely say I was _not_ expecting that.”

Rocket growls, the low sound reverberating in the big empty room. “Why? Because it’s me?”

Quill sees the danger immediately and backtracks. “Rocket, no. That’s not what I mean. I guess I—”

“What’s actually going on here?” asks Gamora, looking between Rocket and Quill with a frown.

“Me an’ Rocket here been workin’ some things out,” Yondu says smoothly. He can feel it coming back, the drawling cadence to his voice, like slipping into an old skin. Yondu Udonta might have been mostly fake, but the old bastard has his uses from time to time. “Quill got in the middle of it ‘fore we patched it up between ourselves.”

Gamora gives him a look that tells him she don’t much like his bravado. Tough; when she’s sloughed off all her bullshit, then she can complain about his.

“And what is it exactly that you were working out?” asks Quill, looking for all the world like he knows the answer and he’s hoping he’s wrong.

That stings a bit.

“We’re dating,” says Rocket gruffly. He’s got his chin up defiantly, although Groot is still clutched tight to his chest. His tail lashes back and forth. “I shouldn’t have told you like I did. Sorry, Quill.”

Quill blinks, and no wonder; Yondu didn’t raise a stupid kid. He knows what that word cost Rocket. “I—don’t worry about it,” he says after a beat.

Yondu can feel Gamora’s eyes on him, so he turns and cocks an eyebrow at her.

She looks away, trying to cover how flustered she is. Girl’s game face goes all to hell whenever Quill’s around. It’s sorta sweet.

“So, uh,” Quill’s casting around for words to smooth over the awkwardness of the revelation. He ain’t doing so good. “Congratulations?”

Yondu sighs. He’s a cool guy; how the hell did he manage to raise such a goddamn dork? “Thanks,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I am Groot?” The twig peers at Rocket.

“Yeah, this means we ain’t fighting anymore.” Rocket pats his back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I am Groot.” Thin vines twine themselves around Rocket’s neck as Groot snuggles closer.

Seeing the two of them is almost enough to make Yondu wish Quill was little again. He hopes Rocket appreciates the hugs now, because he remembers how big that tree gets.

And he remembers how annoyed and (yeah, fine) sad he got when Quill got bigger than him.

“Alright,” he says loudly to cover the moment, “where’s the coffee? I didn’t sleep so good last night because _someone_ had t’ come talk t’ me at ass o’ clock.”

Rocket’s mouth falls open. “ _You_ didn’t sleep? I laid awake half the friggin’ night because you snore like a goddamn bomb going off!”

“Lies,” says Yondu primly. “I ain’t never snored a day in my life. Ask Kraglin, he’ll tell you.”

“Why would Kraglin know?” Rocket narrows his eyes.

“Why would I know what?” Kraglin’s voice right behind him makes Yondu jump.

“Goddamn shadow,” he mutters.

“Why the hell do you know if Yondu snores?” demands Rocket.

Kraglin gives him a hard look, and then smirks just to be an asshole before going for the coffee. “Mornin’, Pete.”

Quill’s watching all of them with wide eyes. “Uhhh, hey,” he manages.

“So you two done fightin’?” Kraglin asks as he fills a cup for Yondu and then himself. He hands Yondu’s coffee over and Yondu sighs gratefully.

“Yeah.” Rocket’s eyeing Kraglin suspiciously.

“Good.” Kraglin raises his cup to his lips. “Ya hurt him an’ I’ll kill you. Nothin’ personal.”

“Shut up, Kraglin.” Yondu glares over his cup. “Don’t need anyone fightin’ my battles for me.”

“Yessir,” says Kraglin automatically, but Yondu smiles anyway, safe behind his cup.

The gears are still turning in Quill’s head, but Yondu figures that’s fine. Hell, it took him a couple days to wrap his head around the idea of him and Rocket, and he wanted it the whole time.

But he reckons they still oughta talk about it. So he puts down his coffee and snaps “Quill?” and jerks his head toward the doorway.

Quill nods after a second, untwining his fingers from Gamora’s and getting to his feet. He follows Yondu gamely out of the mess and down to a now abandoned room that used to act as inventory.

Yondu figures Kraglin won’t do anything to Rocket while Gamora and the twig are around. He’ll be fine.

“So,” he says abruptly. Quill keeps fidgeting, so someone’s gotta say something. “You gonna be able t’ actually look me in the eye again anytime soon?”

Quill sighs. “Well, it’s a lot to get used to. I didn’t even think you were into—”

“Guys?” drawls Yondu. “Or didja mean fuzzies? ‘Cause that one surprised me too, if we’re bein’ honest.”

Quill glances at him, a tiny hint of a smile hovering on his lips. “Either?”

Yondu snorts, encouraged. That little smile’s always been the first step in cajoling Quill around to a good mood. “I expect you got some questions.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Quill mutters.

Yondu rolls his eyes. “Not about _that._ I ain’t tellin’ you shit about the nookie-nookie.”

“Please stop calling it that,” says Quill with a pained expression, which just makes Yondu want to do it again.

He refrains, but it’s a struggle. “I meant more about me seein’ one o’ your friends. Gotta be weird for ya.”

“Uh, yeah.” Quill nods. “You could definitely say that. Robbing the cradle, old man?”

“I’ll have you know he came after me,” says Yondu with great dignity.

Quill goggles at him. “Rocket came onto you? _Rocket?_ ”

Yondu sighs, because Quill’s making perfect sense. Rocket would never be confident enough to actually approach someone he wanted. He’s more the type to lurk in the ducts and watch people sleep, pining his little heart out. Yondu found that out firsthand.

“Wasn’t quite that simple,” he allows. “But that story don’t do either of us any favors.”

“What do you mean?” Quill frowns.

Yondu looks down, because it’s one thing to be vulnerable in front of Rocket, who’s just as fucked up as he is, but Yondu’s always wanted to be more than that in Quill’s eyes. Not someone to look up to; he never managed that, but at least not openly pathetic.

Still. He’s been paying attention over the last few months. Around Peter Quill, vulnerability _is_ strength. There’s something wild and brave about flashing your heart at a universe that’s determined to break it, daring life to steal your happiness. Quill’s always known that, and it don’t speak well to Yondu’s intelligence that he’s just now learning the lesson.

“You know I was exiled by Stakar an’ the other Clans after I ran kids for Ego,” he says quietly. “An’ you know I wasn’t close with any o’ the crew while you was growin’ up.”

“Kraglin,” Quill interjects, and Yondu nods.

“Yeah, Kraglin wormed his way in. Just like you did. But neither of ya knew it, didja?” He levels Quill with a look.

Quill looks down.

“Kept everyone away, ‘cause I’d be damned if I let anyone get in close enough t’ hurt me like Stakar did. An’ then you left, an’ I started lookin’ around an’ realizin’ the life I built was _shit._ ” Yondu looks at Quill. “You remember Contraxia?”

Quill nods. “Yeah. Iron Lotus, right?”

“That’s the one.” Yondu nods. “I can remember lookin’ out one o’ those windows, seein’ my boys down in the streets havin’ fun, an’ there I was, alone. No real friends, ran my kid off, payin’ for sex from a goddamn robot.” He shakes his head. “I was lonely as hell, Quill. You were the only thing keepin’ that away all those years, an’ I didn’t treat you right.”

Quill’s looking at him seriously. “I didn’t know.”

Yondu scoffs. “How could ya? Ain’t like I was showin’ it. Any weakness got sniffed out an’ put down with those assholes. ‘S why I was so hard on you. Thought I was makin’ you strong.” He shakes his head. “You knew better’n me what strong really was.”

“Yondu—”

“So after all the shit with Ego went down,” Yondu talks over him, “I realized I didn’t know where the hell I was even supposed t’ start if I wanted t’ make somethin’ better for myself. I still ain’t sure, an’ I’m happier now than I’ve been in a real long time.”

He pauses to consider what he’s just said, and realizes it’s true. A small, satisfied smile curls his lips. “A real long time,” he repeats.

That gets him a smile from Quill. “Good,” he says softly.

Yondu nods. “An’ I’ll be damned if what you an’ your girl have don’t seem real nice,” he says. “I never had that. ‘Course, I wasn’t quite as good at pullin’ as you always was. I was sure you was gonna come home one day totin’ a baby behind ya.”

Quill has the grace to go red and look down.

Yondu shakes his head fondly. “Good lookin’ as I was, I was way too fucked up t’ try my hand at seein’ other people. Bots was always easier, you get me? No chance they was gonna turn me down or stare at my scars, or do anything that might make me wanna whistle ‘em t’ hell.”

Quill studies him. “I didn’t notice when I was a kid,” he says. “But that makes sense.”

Yondu nods, turning away and pretending to study some shelves. “Anyway, me an’ Rocket got t’ talkin’ an’ there’s a virtual reality program you can buy. Lets ya meet people. You can be anonymous on there. Seemed like a good way t’ ease into learnin’ how t’ do shit I probably should’ve figured out by now.” He scratches his head. “Pretty stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” When he turns back, Quill is giving him this horribly understanding look. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Yondu’s throat tightens, but he forces himself to swallow. Talking is too much; he nods.

Quill takes a step closer. “Okay, this makes sense now. You and Rocket were a thing on there and he panicked when he figured out it was you?”

Yondu nods again, tensing as Quill comes up behind him.

“Now I get it.” Quill carefully puts his arms around Yondu from behind and lays his cheek on his shoulder. He’s probably gotta hunch over to do it, but he doesn’t complain.

Yondu’s eyes slide shut and he leans back, just a little. Feels weird, being held by his kid instead of the other way around, but if he’s learned anything from Rocket it’s that weird don’t mean bad.

“You really went all in trying to work on your issues, huh?” Quill’s stubble scrapes loudly against the leather. “That takes guts. I’m proud of you.”

Yondu’s vision blurs, and he blinks to clear it. “Aw, hell,” he mutters as he feels wetness on his cheeks. He sniffs. “Don’t get all mushy on me, boy.”

Quill nuzzles his shoulder a little. “Deal with it, old man.”

Yondu grunts. He doesn’t know what words would be right here anyway, and he’s used enough of them for today. So he raises a hand and awkwardly pats Quill’s cheek. It’s bristly with stubble, a visceral reminder that his boy is a man now.

Quill ain’t the only one proud.

The patting turns into petting, but Quill doesn’t move away even if it’s weird. He just lets Yondu rest his hand on his cheek with a happy sigh.

They stay like that for awhile.

—

The rest of the day goes pretty normal after that. Sure, Yondu catches Gamora watching him narrowly a couple times, but winking at her makes her quit it. And Kraglin’s gonna give Rocket a hard time for awhile; best way to deal with that is to let them sort it out themselves. Kraglin’ll see, in time.

By unspoken agreement, he and Rocket don’t make a big thing out of it. Yondu’s not gonna hide it, since he ain’t ashamed, but he ain’t about to make a shipwide announcement either.

He’s aware of Rocket on a level he’s never been before. There’s something heavy between them when their eyes meet, a pleasant spark in Yondu’s gut that makes him look forward to later. He’s caught himself looking Rocket over a few times now, wondering what it’s gonna be like when they finally fuck.

Rocket hardly touches his dinner, poking his food around while trying not to sneak glances at Yondu. It’s cute, and Yondu winks at him across the table just for the thrill of seeing his fur fluff up when he gets embarrassed.

Kraglin snorts a laugh next to him, so Yondu stomps hard on his foot. The ensuing yelp is enough to distract everyone from him and Rocket.

After the food is cleared and the dishes are taken care of, everyone starts to disperse. Drax and Mantis wander off for some mindless show on the holonet, Gamora whips out her sword to start cleaning it, and Rocket nudges Groot toward Quill.

Quill glances between them and gives Yondu a crooked smile. Yondu nods in return before faking a wide yawn and muttering about how he’s heading to bed.

“Me too,” says Rocket with an even less convincing yawn, and Quill groans.

“For god’s sake, Rocket, just go. Nobody wants you to make a big deal about it.”

Rocket flips him off, but he doesn’t look too annoyed.

“Night, Cap’n,” says Kraglin mildly, and Yondu eyes him suspiciously. But the smile he gives Yondu is genuine, so Yondu lets it slide.

“Night,” he says back, and leaves it at that.

They stop at Rocket’s room so he can grab some new clothes and a toothbrush. Yondu’s buzzing with anticipation as Rocket putters around debating whether he’s gonna need anything else.

“Rocket,” he finally says, “I’m about t’ strip naked with the goddamn door open if you don’t hurry your fuzzy ass up.”

Rocket stops and blinks at him, looking a little stunned. “Uh,” he says.

Yondu raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I don’t need this shit,” Rocket agrees. He lets the pile of crap in his arms fall on the bed and follows Yondu out.

He drops the toothbrush and his extra clothes as soon as they get Yondu’s door shut behind them. “Okay,” he says, squaring his shoulders, “strip.”

Yondu pauses. He’s got nothing Rocket ain’t seen just this morning, so he goes for the scarf around his neck, sliding it off and tossing it away before working on the straps across his chest. It takes awhile, and he can see Rocket’s bravado waning by the time he’s bare to the waist.

That ain’t what he wants. He slides to his knees, with a little more creaking than he ever did in the program, and does his damndest to slink over to Rocket. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Rocket frowns.

“Wanna see you too.” Yondu punctuates the statement with a kiss to Rocket’s nose. It’s unpleasantly cold, but he supposes it might warm up pretty nice between his thighs if he gave it a chance.

Rocket’s blinking at him. “Uh, yeah,” he agrees, “okay. Sure. I can—Lemme just—” He scrambles out of his suit without looking at Yondu. When he’s got it off, he tosses it to the side and gives Yondu a surly look that means he ain’t feeling so confident.

Yondu looks him over. Most of it he’s seen before; fur and little shiny bits of metal, and surprisingly broad shoulders. His gaze drifts lower, and he doesn’t know what shows on his face, but Rocket shifts uncomfortably.

“My dick don’t come out unless it’s hard,” he mumbles.

“Can I touch it?” whispers Yondu.

The way Rocket’s eyes get big is awful flattering. “You want to?”

Yondu nods. He’s touched Rocket before, but it’s different now. Now it’s their real selves and their real faces, and there’s something special about it.

And he’s damn curious about what Rocket’s packing under the fluff.

“Okay,” says Rocket, still clinging to the scraps of his earlier bravado.

Yondu cautiously reaches out to smooth his hand down Rocket’s belly. The fur is soft and thick, and now that Rocket’s clean it smells pleasantly musky. He feels between Rocket’s legs, fondling his balls before tracing his thumb along the small sheath where his cock must be hiding.

Rocket’s hands are balled into fists.

“Wanna make you feel good,” Yondu murmurs. He wants Rocket to get comfortable, to take the lead again, and he’s hoping he can sweet talk him into it.

“Feels good,” Rocket whispers shakily.

Yondu feels something hot and wet against his thumb, and he looks down to see Rocket’s cock, slim and pink and shiny, poking out of its sheath. “Oh hell,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb up the underside.

Rocket breathes in sharply.

Yondu glances at him. “Yeah?” he asks.

Rocket nods. “Yeah,” he manages. “Not too hard, okay?”

“Okay.” Yondu traces the length of Rocket’s cock and then carefully touches the head. He seems to get wet all over, not just at the tip like Yondu does, and Yondu wraps his hand around Rocket’s dick just to find out how it feels against his palm. He finds he likes it.

And he likes how worked up Rocket’s getting. “Still good?” He really doesn’t wanna fuck this up.

Rocket’s staring down at Yondu’s hand curled around his cock. “Yeah,” he says in a breathy voice. “Real good.”

Yondu peers at him. Poor kid looks totally overwhelmed. “Wanna be good for you,” he says quietly.

Rocket looks up. “Yondu—”

“Hm?” Yondu meets his eyes and stops at the wild expression in them. “Rocket,” he says, as soothingly as he can, “if you don’t wanna, then we don’t gotta. I ain’t here to—”

A hot, narrow little mouth mashes against his own, and Yondu tastes blood where a sharp fang catches his lip. The pain takes a second to catch up, slight as it is. He must gasp, because Rocket jerks back, looking horrified.

“I told you,” he hisses, hugging himself and turning away to hide his dick. “Told you we don’t fit. I’m sorry.”

Yondu reaches up to wipe away the drop of blood. When he licks it off his finger, he can taste Rocket. “I dunno if I’d say that,” he drawls, and it gets Rocket’s attention. “Seems t’ me we’s just goin’ at it wrong.”

Rocket glares at him, clearly tempted to throw himself back into self-loathing. “How do you figure?”

“Lemme suck your dick,” says Yondu, giving Rocket his best cocky grin. “See if we fit together then.” He heaves himself off the floor; kneeling’s for the young, and he ain’t. With a grunt of effort, he pushes his pants and underwear down, and then he’s as naked as Rocket.

Rocket looks over his body, eyes hungry and hot, and it makes Yondu shiver. He sits on the bed and parts his legs, just a little, so he can watch Rocket’s gaze drop to the shadowed space between.

Yondu reaches down to stroke his cock, tipping his head back with a low groan when it twitches under his fingertips. “Wanna taste you,” he tells Rocket as he lays back, still playing with himself.

Rocket’s panting; Yondu can hear it. It takes a minute for him to follow Yondu onto the bed, but when he gets there, he keeps staring at Yondu with this eager, overwhelmed look. “God, Yondu,” he mutters.

Yondu spreads his legs a little wider and lets go of his cock. “I want you,” he tells Rocket, slipping his fingers through the lips of his cunt.

Rocket moans, nostrils flaring. “I can smell you,” he whispers, sounding awed. “Shit, Yondu. I can smell your cunt.” He snaps his mouth shut, looking embarrassed.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yondu breathes, brushing a thumb over his clit. It makes his legs jerk. “Want you in my mouth. I gotta taste you now, _please_ Daddy—”

They both freeze. Yondu’s face goes hot in a less pleasant way; he jerks his hand out from between his legs and looks away from Rocket.

Rocket swallows. It sounds too loud in the silence. “Baby,” he finally says, hesitant, like he’s trying it out. “Baby, did I say you should quit touchin’ yourself?”

Something tight in Yondu’s chest unravels, and he shuts his eyes tight against the flood of feelings that comes with it. Bad enough Rocket knows about the first time he broke down and cried during sex; he’s not gonna do it again. He slides his hand back between his legs, eager to please now that Rocket’s finally back.

“That’s right,” murmurs Rocket, and Yondu twitches at the rough hand that slides over his thigh. “Legs open, gorgeous, lemme see you.”

Yondu shudders, squeezing his eyes shut as he spreads wide. He’s hard and wet, but goddamn if he ain’t a little embarrassed. Last time he showed Rocket his cunt he was young and smooth and pretty, and now there’s that ugly scar on the back of his thigh where the wound got infected before Yondu actually went to the doc and confessed. And he’s put on a few pounds over the years, though he’d whistle through anyone who pointed out his belly.

“Yondu,” says Rocket softly, “you been hidin’ _this_ ‘cause you’re embarrassed? Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous.”

Yondu swallows. He still can’t quite open his eyes yet. “So’re you,” he mumbles. “I know you ain’t gonna believe me, but I like how ya look too.”

He can feel Rocket’s eyes on him, so he cracks open his eyes.

Rocket’s looking at him like he did back on Ego’s planet, all open and fragile. Something in Yondu burns when he thinks about how little kindness it takes to undo Rocket. They’re gonna change that, him and Quill and the others. Won’t be easy or quick, but damn if Yondu’s ever been afraid of hard work.

He reaches out to cup Rocket’s cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb over his whiskers and smiling a little at how they twitch. “Don’t think you ever made me ask this many times t’ suck your dick,” he says.

Rocket wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, yeah, you cockslut.” But he’s grinning now.

And Yondu grins back. “Thought you liked that about me.”

“It’s one of your better qualities, yeah.” Rocket shuffles closer to Yondu’s face. “Open your mouth, gorgeous.”

Yondu smirks. He knows he’s got a pretty mouth, and he knows how to make Rocket real happy with it. Assuming all the shit he likes still works on his real dick.

That dick is almost in range if Yondu turns his head, so he does, studying the dark pink flush of it before he sticks his tongue out to taste.

Rocket gasps, one of his hands curling around Yondu’s jaw. “Feels good, baby,” he says, and Yondu’s nice enough to ignore how his voice shakes.

He closes his eyes and gives it a long lick from base to tip. Musky flavor bursts on his tongue, but he can’t say he hates it. Rocket’s dick ain’t thick, but it’s longer than he expected. Pretty respectable, and it makes for a decent mouthful. Yondu ain’t gonna have to choke himself on this one. He gives Rocket a sultry look through his eyelashes when he wraps his lips around the tip and sinks down.

“Oh _shit,_ ” Rocket breathes, and Yondu moans a little, bobbing his head before breaking off to lap at the tip.

“Like how you taste, Daddy,” he whispers, because goddammit, this shit turns him on and Rocket’s shoulders straighten a bit every time he says it.

“Like your mouth, baby,” Rocket whispers back, tracing the crisscross of scars on Yondu’s cheek like they’re not ugly. “You got such pretty lips. Look real good on my cock.”

Yondu moans again and takes him back in, sucking on the head just to get Rocket to break and cry out. It feels like a win, building Rocket back up so they can have this together.

Rocket’s hips keep jerking in rabbity aborted little motions that would make Yondu smile if his mouth wasn’t full. He’s trying not to fuck Yondu’s face, and it’s real considerate of him. But then, for all his faults, Rocket’s never been careless in bed.

Yondu pulls back to look up at Rocket while he swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. “You wanna come in my mouth?” he asks, smirking as he presses a little kiss to the tip.

Rocket makes a high animal little noise at that. “Always, but I got another idea.”

Yondu grins. “An’ what’s that?”

“I was thinkin’ I wanna fuck you.” Rocket gives him a filthy grin in return. “Whattaya say, pretty boy?”

Yondu licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. “Want you to.”

“I bet you do.” Rocket glances down Yondu’s body, where he’s still got his legs splayed wide. “You’re _soaked_ , gorgeous.”

Yondu shivers. “ _Please,_ ” he whispers.

Rocket moves down the bed, stepping over Yondu’s thigh to sit between his legs. When Yondu sits up to look at him, he’s staring at Yondu’s cunt.

Yondu gulps. “Rocket—”

Rocket looks up sharply. “What do you call me in here?” he asks.

All the breath leaves Yondu in a rush. “ _Daddy,_ ” he gasps out, “fuck me, Daddy. Please.”

Rocket’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Such a sweet boy for me,” he murmurs. “Spread for me more, baby, I wanna see how sweet you are.”

Yondu shifts his knees up, feeling deliciously exposed. It gives him a real dirty thrill, having Rocket look at him like this, with that hungry look in his eyes. “Sweet enough for you, Daddy?”

“Smartass,” mutters Rocket, but he can’t smother his grin. He leans down, huffing through his open mouth, and lets his eyes drift shut. “I like how you smell. Smells like sex.”

Yondu swallows, breath hitching when he feels Rocket’s whiskers tickle his inner thighs. “You gonna tease me?”

Rocket glances at him with a little smirk. “That’d just get you messier. I was thinkin’ I should clean you up before I fuck that sweet little pussy of yours.”

“Oh _hell._ ” Yondu lets his head fall back, so he’s not watching when Rocket drags his tongue over his clit. He makes a little squeaking noise that Rocket better never bring up if he wants to do this again, and then moans, because Rocket’s lapping slow and steady over his clit and he can make fun of him all he wants as long as he doesn’t fucking stop.

Rough little hands settle on his inner thighs to hold his legs open, and Yondu stares at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open, gasping and moaning while he listens to the wet, filthy sounds of Rocket licking his cunt. He’s so worked up already, and the smooth glide of Rocket’s tongue over him has him tensing up all over.

“Daddy,” he whispers, “Daddy, I’m gonna come if you don’t quit.”

Rocket glances up; Yondu can see it out of the corner of his eye. “Good,” he says. “Wanna make you come on my tongue. Then you’re gonna be nice and wet for me. I can slide right into your slippery cunt then, can’t I?”

Yondu moans, cock twitching. He’s missed Rocket’s dirty talk, and he kind of hopes Rocket will lick up the underside of his dick while he’s down there. Before, he always thought of them as two separate things, but now he wonders if his cock and his clit ain’t connected. He ain’t a medic, and he ain’t asking Kraglin, so he figures he and Rocket can figure it out.

Rocket smirks and lowers his head again; Yondu shoves a fist in his mouth to cover the noise he makes when those narrow, velvety lips close over his clit and suck.

“Fuck,” he sobs, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m comin’, Daddy, I’m—” He breaks off with a high, desperate noise as he starts to crest the edge, mouth open in a silent scream. It don’t stop, either; Rocket’s tongue keeps moving and he holds Yondu there for an endless minute before Yondu’s thighs stop shaking and he can breathe again.

When he opens his eyes, he swallows and looks at Rocket where he sits up and licks his lips. Rocket’s muzzle is soaked, and his eyes are dark and hot when he meets Yondu’s gaze.

“Next time I wanna watch your face when you come,” he tells him, dark with promise.

Yondu moans, nodding. That sounds pretty good to him, as long as Rocket don’t lose track of priorities. “Said you was gonna fuck me,” he murmurs. “Want you in me. Fill me up, Daddy, come on.”

Rocket shivers. “Minx,” he tells Yondu affectionately, and he rubs the underside of his cock along Yondu’s oversensitive clit.

Yondu jerks, legs closing on instinct before he remembers he’s supposed to keep them open. He forces them apart again and whines at Rocket.

Rocket just grins and does it again, a slippery slide that makes Yondu’s legs jerk.

“Daddy _please!_ ” he damn near yells after a few more passes; Rocket’s cock is firmer than a lot of species, and the pressure against his clit is somewhere between perfect and hellish. It’s getting him worked up again, but there’s an edge of pain that could get nasty if Rocket don’t stop. “Just put it in me, come on!”

Rocket peers at him, perceptive as always, and nods. “Okay, pretty baby,” he coos. “Gimme that tight little cunt.” One of those rough hands parts the lips, making Yondu squirm; the points of Rocket’s claws ain’t painful, but he’s real aware of how they could be. “Look at you,” Rocket breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

And he pushes in.

It ain’t a stretch; Yondu knew it wouldn’t be. Rocket’s cock is about as thick as one of Yondu’s fingers, but the length and the curve of it are _real_ nice. Yondu lets out a guttural moan as Rocket bottoms out.

“ _Shit_ that’s good,” he groans, grabbing handfuls of the sheets and rocking his hips back into Rocket’s tentative thrusts. “Fuck, Daddy, you fill me up real good. _Real_ fuckin’ good.”

Rocket shifts his hands to grip Yondu’s thighs harder, claws digging in just a little. Yondu’s gonna have marks.

Not that he minds.

He and Rocket might be shaped a little different out here, but Rocket fucks the same; short, fairly brutal thrusts that ram his fuzzy little pelvis into Yondu’s. He’s small enough to fit more comfortably between Yondu’s thighs, although his tendency to grab could be a problem with how damn rough his hands are.

But then Rocket raises one of those hands and licks his palm, repeatedly and efficiently like he’s grooming, before he wraps it around Yondu’s cock.

Yondu groans, pushing into it. “‘S soft now,” he grunts.

“Yep.” Rocket winks at him. “They get smooth when they’re wet.”

“No shit?” Yondu lets his head fall back with a gasp when Rocket traces a claw just under the head. “Feels good.”

Rocket’s next thrust angles up a little more, hitting a good spot, and Yondu shoves his hand in his mouth to keep from babbling too much.

“None o’ that, baby,” Rocket purrs, slowing down maddeningly. “Get that hand outta your mouth. I wanna hear you.” He twists his hand around the head of Yondu’s cock, and Yondu yelps.

“Come on, Daddy, quit teasin’,” he growls. And then he grins. “Fuck me like ya _mean_ it.”

Rocket’s bared teeth and “you little _shit,”_ make him laugh and brace himself for the next thrust, which comes as hard as he’d been hoping.

“ _Yes!_ ” he snarls, throwing his head back until his implant catches on the sheets. He digs his toes into the blankets and pushes back as Rocket angles his thrusts to make Yondu yell. _“Fuck,_ just there, ya got it. God, Daddy, keep goin’, just like that, please...”

“Damn, you’re a needy little brat,” growls Rocket, but he’s grinning as he fucks Yondu faster. His rhythm’s getting rabbity, which means he’s gonna come soon. “Always so greedy, ain’t you?”

“Mm hmm,” Yondu nods frantically, trying to push into Rocket’s hand. He’s thumbing the tip of Yondu’s cock like a goddamn tease, and Yondu wants to come with Rocket inside him. “Gimme more, Daddy. Touch my cunt, c’mon. Wanna come on your dick.”

Rocket groans loudly. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that? _Shit._ ”

Yondu grins and reaches down to cover Rocket’s hand with his own. He lets his expression turn sly as he moves both their hands on his cock, just how he likes it. “Feels so good, Daddy,” he whispers. “You touch me just right.” And he guides Rocket’s hand down just a little more on the downstroke, so he catches the hood of Yondu’s clit before gliding back up.

Rocket’s expression brightens the way it always does when he’s figured something out. “ _Yeah_ ,” he growls with a grin. “I see what you need now, pretty baby.”

Yondu nods, swallowing a gasp when Rocket does it again, testing once and then speeding up when Yondu moans his approval. He’s landed himself a real fast learner, that much is obvious when Rocket starts to time his hand with his thrusts.

“Shit,” he pants, nodding so hard his teeth rattle. “You got it now, tha’s _perfect,_ don’t stop, don’t stop, you gonna make me come again, Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Rocket grunts, “look at you, moanin’ for me. You’re so pretty like this, you know that? So pretty...”

Yondu bites his lip and reaches for Rocket, needing to touch him. He gets his hands on fur and strokes sloppily, too far gone to do much else. “Need you, Daddy,” he whispers. “Rocket.”

Rocket looks at him, the dirty smirk sliding off his face. Something real sweet flashes across his eyes before the grin is back. “I got you, baby boy,” he murmurs. “Now be good for me, hm? Be a good boy and come on Daddy’s cock.”

Yondu shudders; he’s right there, hanging on the edge. “Wanna come,” he whimpers, not giving a shit how pitiful he sounds.

“Oh, you’re gonna come,” says Rocket in a low, dark voice that makes Yondu go tight all over. “Gonna make you come all over, baby. My messy little slut.” He twists his hand just right over the tip of Yondu’s cock. “Come now, gorgeous. Come for Daddy.”

And Yondu does, with a broken-off yell and a full body shudder; Rocket fucks him through it until his legs stop shaking, sweet talking him the whole time in a shaky voice.

_“Fuck,”_ he breathes when Yondu goes limp. “You look so goddamn hot when you come.”

Yondu gives him a weak smile and a thumbs up, which makes him laugh. “Want you t’ come now,” he mumbles. “Wanna feel it in me. Come in me, Daddy, fill me up.”

And goddamn, does he love the way Rocket’s head falls back as he lets himself go. It’s the only time Rocket ever lets himself get selfish in bed, at the end after Yondu’s gotten his, and Yondu’s never seen his face like this before.

Rocket’s got his eyes squeezed shut and he’s biting his lower lip, and he’s the most gorgeous thing Yondu thinks he’s ever seen.

Yondu covers one of the hands gripping his thigh and smiles when Rocket’s eyes pop open. “Wanna feel you come, Daddy,” he tells him, curling his hand around Rocket’s.

And Rocket’s face twists up, mouth falling open as he comes with a loud, shivery moan. His hips pump brutally twice and then go still as his little body trembles with the force of it. “Fuck,” he punches out, moaning again.

He pulls out with a shaky breath after he settles, and Yondu makes a face at the mess.

“Guess we’s gonna have t’ start puttin’ a towel down or somethin’,” he says, sitting up and frowning down between his legs.

Rocket starfishes next to him, groaning. “I’d lick it up, but I can’t fuckin’ move.”

Yondu chuckles and flops back, turning to Rocket. “Ain’t you a gentleman.”

Rocket grunts, but wiggles a little so he’s pressed against Yondu.

“Thought you couldn’t move.” Yondu bites back a grin.

“Shut up.”

“You used t’ get me a towel an’ shit,” drawls Yondu, wrinkling his nose when his crotch squelches.

“Honeymoon’s over.” Rocket waves his hand in the direction of Yondu’s bathroom.

Yondu reaches down between his legs and then wipes his hand on Rocket.

“What the fuck!” Rocket squirms away. “You know how hard it is to get this crap outta my fur?” He turns away and starts grooming himself frantically.

Yondu gives him a mild look. “What’s that? You don’t like bein’ messy after?”

Rocket gives him an evil look, but after another minute of licking himself, he hops off the bed, muttering dire threats under his breath as he stomps into the bathroom to get the damn towel.

Yondu stretches back and puts his arms behind his head with a smug grin. He didn’t spend thirty years as captain and raise the most stubborn little shit in the cosmos without learning a few tricks to make people do what he wants.

Rocket throws the towel at him when he comes back, still bitching a blue streak. “Brat,” he mutters darkly, scowling as Yondu wipes himself up.

“Thanks Daddy,” Yondu whispers sweetly, pressing a kiss to Rocket’s hand when he reaches for the towel.

Rocket makes a little sound at that, fur fluffing up all embarrassed-like. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbles.

Yondu tosses the towel off the side of the bed after he wipes himself down. “Now c’mere, darlin’. We gotta figure out how I’m still gonna be the little spoon.”

—

Things calm down a fair bit in the next few weeks. Rocket don’t sleep in with Yondu every night, but more often than not he follows Yondu back to his room, or if he doesn’t Yondu finds him passed out next to him in the morning. It becomes a thing.

Rocket’s shit starts migrating into Yondu’s space too; bits and bobs that he trips over when he gets up to piss at night, leading to hissed curses and occasional yelling matches. Rocket has an organization system that don’t account for a lack of night vision, right up until Yondu manages to step on the project he’d been working on.

It wasn’t on purpose, no matter what Rocket claims.

They learn as they go.

And if Yondu gets hair in his mouth more often than not, he can confidently say he don’t mind it enough to stop letting parts of Rocket near his face. He’s taken to nibbling on those velvety ears when they’re in bed, and for all Rocket whines about it he never moves away.

Touching Rocket is a little bit of a minefield, but Yondu knows how to weather explosions. Asking beforehand gets the best results, unless Rocket’s in a shitty mood and don’t wanna talk. When that happens the best thing to do is leave him be, or barring that, let him experiment on Yondu.

Because Rocket is an evil little genius who likes to build shit, and that don’t end at the bedroom door. For the most part, Yondu’s happy enough to play along. Hell, who wouldn’t be happy to get personalized sex toys just because it’s been quiet and his man got bored?

Anyway, that’s how Yondu discovered it’s actually possible to pass out from overstimulation. Turns out three vibrators at once ain’t quite as fun in practice as in theory (at least not after five or six orgasms). He came to with Rocket panicking over the comm to Kraglin.

So that’s one more thing him and Krags don’t talk about. Really, he’s just glad Kraglin was around and Rocket didn’t have to go to Quill.

No sense in killing half the crew from sheer embarrassment.

The others don’t say much about him and Rocket. Drax stared for a long time when he first heard, but decided not to comment. Mantis just giggled and asked if Rocket was as soft as he looked. That didn’t go over too well, but Yondu’s a sweet talker and in the end Mantis kept all her fingers.

Yondu reaches out to smooth down the fur on Rocket’s chest. They’re tangled together, sweaty and sated, and Rocket’s tail brushes pleasantly back and forth over Yondu’s hip.

“You ever think about loggin’ back in?” asks Rocket suddenly.

Yondu pauses. “Sometimes,” he finally says. “You?”

Rocket looks up at the ceiling. “Yeah, sometimes,” he mutters. “I guess.”

“We still got some time before we gotta pay next month’s subscription,” Yondu tells him. “Don’t gotta decide anything just now.”

“No, I know, just...” Rocket makes a face. “I liked bein’ big.”

“An’ I kinda liked bein’ young.” Yondu nods. “Ain’t no reason we can’t log in sometime. Fuck around, see if it’s still as fun as the real thing.”

Rocket licks his cheek. “That’s the thing. I don’t think it would be.”

Yondu raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Nah. I mean, sure, in there I’m big enough to hold you down an’ shit, and you never farted on my dick—why are you laughing?”

Yondu grins. “Rememberin’ your _face!”_ Rocket’s unimpressed look makes him laugh harder.

Rocket holds his glare for a full minute before a tiny smirk starts to curl his lip. “Okay, fine. It was kinda funny.”

Yondu snorts.

“Point is,” Rocket says loudly, “I sorta like your face. It might even be the only face I wanna fuck.”

Yondu blinks. “When’d you start gettin’ all sentimental?” he asks, although damn if he don’t feel kinda warm and fuzzy.

Rocket just shoves him.

Yondu chuckles and tugs him close to his side. After a token resistance, Rocket comes and snuggles in. A small hand settles on Yondu’s chest.

“You’re a dick,” he mumbles.

Yondu catches an ear between his lips and tugs playfully. “Thought you liked my face.”

Rocket grunts and tilts a little, letting Yondu play with his ear. “Point is,” he says again after a minute, “I don’t really wanna log back in. I was thinkin’ about lettin’ my subscription expire.”

Yondu strokes Rocket’s back. “I do hate t’ waste units,” he says mildly.

“Yeah.” Rocket catches the line Yondu throws him easily. “Ain’t like we’re rich or anything.”

“Nope.” Yondu smothers his grin. “Probably oughta start watchin’ expenses.”

“Exactly!”

“I like your face too, darlin’,” says Yondu softly.

Rocket looks up at him with those big brown eyes, and hell, Yondu never could resist cute little buggers. He bends down to press his lips against Rocket’s velvety ones and doesn’t comment when Rocket burrows into his neck.

Things are good. They’re good with Quill, good with Kraglin, and good with Rocket. Groot sleeps on his spare pillow three nights a week, and he wakes up more often than not to Rocket’s humming and tinkering.

Took roughly sixty years, but it looks like Yondu Udonta’s finally figured out how to be a happy man.


End file.
